A Sirius Situation
by Jelsemium
Summary: I deeply apologize for the delay in this story. I've had to rework it many times in order to get the plot to work. I'm going to be posting it in sections, so no more cliffhangers.Thank you so much for your patience. I hope this is worth your time.
1. Sirius Conversation

A Sirius Situation

A Harry Potter Alternate Universe Story

And the sequel to "A Harry Situation," which is posted at 

By Jill Weber AKA Jelsemium

All recognizable characters c J. K. Rowling.

Author's Notes: Here is the long delayed sequel to my story: "A Harry Situation."

I apologize for taking so long to get this out. I had planned to start this in August of 2003. However, the shock of the losing poor Sirius. (sniff) plus real life plus pernicious inertia (a body that has stopped writing has a hard time getting started again), conspired to keep me from writing. However, NaNoWriMo gave me the impetuous to start writing again. (The National Novel Writing Month challenge is to write 50,000 words of a novel during the month of November. I won by writing 51,785 words on this very story. And it's not close to being finished.)

Without further ado, the sequel to A Harry Situation… enjoy!

Chapter One: Sirius Conversation

There is a castle somewhere in northern Scotland. To the uniformed and unmagical eye, this castle looks like a crumbling pile of stone, a ruin both unsafe and uninteresting. To the cognoscenti, it was very much larger than it appeared, far more interesting than was strictly healthy.

The castle housed the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in Great Britain… arguably the best in the world. (And if there was anything witches and wizards did well, it was argue.)

Summer had just begun and all but one of the students had departed for home. The one student who was left was in the Hospital Wing, recovering from life threatening injuries sustained from being attacked by a dragon.

The staff, with four exceptions, had also left for summer occupations. The exceptions being the nurse who was caring for the injured boy, the headmaster, and the history professor. The nurse, Madam Poppy Pomfrey, had stayed behind to look after her remaining patient.

Argus Filch, the caretaker, could have had the summer off. However, he preferred to stay at the castle, claiming he could get more work done without the hordes of brats rampaging about.

The history professor, Dustine Binns, being deceased, had nowhere else to go.

The headmaster, who had plenty of places to go and people to see, was still at Hogwarts, seeing one of those people and arranging for the comfort and safety of the last remaining student… Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

"It's all my fault," said Sirius Black, escaped prisoner, Marauder, illegal Animagus and godfather to Harry James Potter. He ran his hand through his long, newly cleaned black hair and looked around the room as if in search of an escape route.

Fawkes the fiery-colored Phoenix, looked from the alleged mass murder to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin (First Class), Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards.

"Of course it is," Albus Dumbledore said comfortingly. He stroked his silvery beard and studied Sirius over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"It's entirely your fault that Voldemort has marked Harry for death. It's certainly your fault that Harry's glasses were cursed to allow the Dragon to home in on him. And naturally, you're to blame for Harry getting thrown into the stone wall of the castle." He raised one bushy eyebrow. "Have I left out anything?"

"Your chin getting frostbitten after your beard rips itself off your face and crawls down your throat," Sirius snarled.

"Ah, my mistake," Dumbledore's expression remained bland.

Fawkes tensed and stared at Sirius as if he wanted to bore a hole in the man's head. Fawkes didn't care for people who threatened Albus Dumbledore.

Sirius pale eyes glared from between his shaggy black fringe. "Stop patronizing me!" He smacked his fist against the wall, drawing angry looks from the various portraits that were hung there.

"Sirius, you can't blame yourself for events beyond your control. You did not send the dragon after Harry. You did not order Harry to lure the dragon away from the other students."

Dumbledore paused. "Although you may have had some influence on his courageous feat, you did not force him to act against his nature."

"James would have been so proud of him," sighed Sirius. He ran his fingers through his hair.

"Any right-minded parent would be proud of a boy like Harry," Dumbledore said firmly.

"And any right-minded parent would have done a better job of protecting him! I stuffed things up! I let that Cressida cow escape," Sirius growled.

"As I recall, from the report that you gave me, you were rather preoccupied in rescuing Harry from her clutches," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Yeah, well, I should have hexed her into oblivion while I was at it." Sirius began to pace around Dumbledore's office. He glared at the various pieces of astronomical equipment as if he was daring the telescopes, sextants and orreries to step outside for a fight.

"You also had your hands full with Miss Weasley and Mr. Longbottom," Dumbledore reminded him.

The corner of Sirius' mouth twitched. "Yeah, that girl is a fireball. Longbottom's just like his dad, too. Frank would have been so proud of that tackle."

"Indeed," Dumbledore murmured. "Neville should be informed of that. I'm afraid he doesn't get as much praise as he should."

"Poor kid," Sirius muttered absently. His head snapped up and a fierce expression crossed his face.

"Stop trying to distract me, Dumbledore. I know what you're planning. You want me to forget that I let that … that…"

"Witch?" supplied Dumbledore.

"She-demon! I allowed that _she-demon_ to attack Harry, _twice_!" Sirius kicked a chair in frustration.

The chair bounced against one of Dumbledore's bookshelves, knocking a vase of petunias and a miniature oil painting of some long ago astronomer onto the floor.

The astronomer made small, indignant noises. The vase shattered, and then heaved a sigh of resignation.

Sirius resumed his pacing.

"Now, Sirius, there is no evidence to suggest that Dr. Cressida Opal and the witch who impersonated the proprietor of the curio shop are the same person," Dumbledore said. Behind Sirius' back, Dumbledore summoned the miniature and examined it for damage.

"What? There's no _evidence_? Who are you trying to fool!?" Sirius bellowed. "Let's go over what we know again, shall we?" he started pacing and glared into Dumbledore's refreshment cabinet as if the liquor bottles were a jury that he had to win over.

"Who are we dealing with?" Sirius snapped.

"A witch of considerable talent and cunning," Dumbledore said. "I've seen many such come through these halls." He pulled off his spectacles and polished them. "Also, Hogwarts isn't the only school of witchcraft and wizardry, you know. She may not have been a student here."

Sirius gave a bark of laughter. "Maybe not, but I bet she was. Most of the truly gifted witches come here. We are dealing with a witch who is very intelligent and talented. She's good at winning people over… even in a short time."

"This witch managed to predict where Harry would have lunch, and to work out that he might go into a curio shop that he had never been in before." He whirled around. "Do you know _why_ Harry and Ginny were interested in that shop?"

"A flyer was sent around Hogwarts, both before the curio shop opened and before that particular Hogsmeade visit." Dumbledore sighed. "I approved of the flyer."

"And why not? It's a perfectly respectable shop, it merely got subverted," Sirius said.

"I still should have…" Dumbledore began.

"Don't try to change the subject! It's my turn to castigate myself, you can have your turn later," Sirius said. He gave Dumbledore a grim smile. "Don't worry, I'll help."

Sirius continued with his rant. "Anyway, dear Cressida was tops in every one of her classes, including Divination and Arithmancy. She used to be Cho Chang's family medi-witch. She could have made an educated guess where Cho would take Harry. Plus, she had a tracking charm on Harry's glasses, remember that? That's what enabled that damned dragon to home in on him…"

Dumbledore held up his hands. "That's a rather large leap to make, Sirius," he said. "Cressida Opal would have no way of knowing that Harry and Cho would go to lunch. Nor would she have been able to predict that Harry would go into that shop."

"She could have had inside information!" Sirius bellowed. He hit the wall again. This time several of the portraits voiced their displeasure, including one of Sirius's great-grandfather, who was Hogwarts' least popular headmaster of all time.

"Sirius, please," Dumbledore said.

"Sorry," Sirius muttered. "Anyway, we have a witch who is good at predicting people, who is good at fooling people, who is good at manipulating people, and who used specially enchanted glass to do her dirty work…" he paused.

"Cressida Opal is _not_ capable of taming a dragon," Dumbledore said. He waved his wand at the broken vase and it reformed and settled back on the bookcase. A second wave replaced the petunias.

"Well, we know she's not working alone!" Sirius exclaimed. "One of Voldemort's other little toads must have arranged for the dragon. We already know that!" Sirius went back to pacing and muttering. "I should have been here when that dragon attacked."

"You couldn't have helped. Our Defence teacher, Bill Weasley, was on the scene when the dragon arrived, and the staff arrived shortly after the attack started," Dumbledore said.

"If you want to condemn us for not being faster and for not protecting our students better, you have that right. However, don't try to claim you could have responded faster or more efficiently than the wizards and witches who were at the scene."

He gave Sirius a severe look. "That would be insulting to the staff and students of this school."

Sirius growled in frustration and kicked at a stool.

The stool leaped out of the way and bumped into a writing table. Unbalanced, Sirius staggered and grabbed at a chair to keep from falling.

The chair skittered to one side, causing Sirius to stagger into Dumbledore's favorite orrery.

The model of the solar system was sent crashing into the stool and the writing desk, which were petulantly kicking at each other.

The orrery bounced back, shedding comets as it jangled along. Annoyed, Sirius punted the model solar system across the room, sending the sun, the planets, and assorted moons clanging and clattering around the room like a pack of mini-Bludgers on a drunken rampage.

More crashes sounded as various heavenly bodies caromed off Dumbledore's collection of strange knickknacks and whirling what'sits.

Saturn's rings became entangled in some hostile books on a low end table. Pluto's moon, Charon, nearly toppled Fawkes' stand.

Fawkes gave an indignant squawk and fluttered over to the mantel. The model of Mercury bounced high enough to ricochet off of the Sorting Hat, eliciting a protest from that worthy piece of apparel.

Saturn's rings finally snapped, sending the modern model of a major planet crashing through a lampshade.

The planet Jupiter did the most damage. It managed to bowl over two telescopes. One of the telescopes toppled a small, round table that held an uncharmed hourglass, which promptly broke open and vomited its sand all over the carpet. The other telescope smashed into the glass fronted refreshment cabinet.

A decanter filled with two hundred and fifty year old Saurian Brandy and a bottle of Phoenix Phizzy Water tumbled out of the cabinet. Fawkes made a spectacular dive to save the Phoenix Phizzy, leaving the brandy to fall to the floor.

The decanter had an unbreakable charm on it, of course. Unfortunately, it rolled directly under the spot where the miniature sun had come to a halt. The heat from the merrily burning starlet caused the brandy to overheat and pop its cork.

The cork shattered the vase with the petunias, again, and the brandy glugged forlornly onto Dumbledore's three hundred year old Persian rug.

Dumbledore gave Fawkes a reproachful look. "You had to save the _soft drink_, didn't you?"

Fawkes made a rude, but rather smug, noise in response.

He settled onto the mantel, having decided that his perch wasn't safe at the moment. Then he started prying at the stopper of the Phoenix Phizzy.

Sirius rubbed his hip as he surveyed the destruction. The first thought that passed through his mind was that James would have been so proud of him. They'd never managed to get at Dumbledore's office, much less vandalize it.

"I think that perhaps you should go to the Hospital Wing," Dumbledore said. The Headmaster's usual serenity seemed a bit forced to Sirius.

James would have been _really_ proud of him! He not only damaged Dumbledore's personal property, he got under Dumbledore's skin!

"I should have a present to take to him," Sirius said, looking around as if expecting a present to present itself.

"I'm sure that your presence is all that's required," Dumbledore said, his good humor returning. "Harry would be distressed if you were to place yourself in danger to buy him a present."

"Maybe I should pop over to that curio shop… what was the name of the real proprietress? Dizzy Doohickey?"

"Demelza Dofunny," Dumbledore sighed. "She was in Ravenclaw, three years behind you."

"Like I said, Dizzy Dofunny. I remember her from Quidditch. She took one too many Bludgers to the head, I think. Maybe I should renew our acquaintance," Sirius grinned wickedly.

"Sirius!" warned Dumbledore.

"Speaking of gifts, you _did_ examine those glass figurines that Harry bought from the store, didn't you?" Sirius said, frowning.

"Yes, yes, of course," Dumbledore huffed. "Minerva, Filius and I went over them thoroughly."

"Filius?" Sirius asked. He scratched his head and tried to place the name.

"Professor Filius Flitwick," Dumbledore responded. "Our Charms professor and the head of Ravenclaw House."

"I knew that," Sirius said. "I just forgot his name for a minute. I always liked that man. Great sense of humor. I think I learned more from him than any other teacher. I'd like to see those glass figurines." Sirius jumped from one subject to another without pausing for breath.

"They have been returned to the curio shop."

"Then maybe I really _do_ need to go there." There was a warning note in the Animagus' voice that told Dumbledore that Sirius was not joking.

"Sirius, you have to keep yourself safe," Dumbledore said sternly. "Harry needs you, and, as little as this will affect your decision, the rest of the wizarding world needs you."

"For what?" Sirius asked scathingly. "Target practice?"

"We need every defender we can get in these dark times," Dumbledore said gravely. "And you need to stay alive for yourself. If anybody has ever earned the right to a happy ending, it is you."

Sirius made a wry face. "Not much chance of that happening," he said.

"All the more reason not to take foolish chances," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Fortune favors the bold," Sirius said.

"Luck favors the prepared," Dumbledore said. "Plus, discretion _is_ the better part of valor."

Sirius sighed and held up his hands in surrender. "All right, you've made your point. However, I still want to examine those figurines. At the very least, we can compare them to the fragments we recovered from the battle at St. Mungo's. That might settle the question of whether the false Dizzy was Cressida."

"I hadn't thought of that," Dumbledore admitted with some chagrin. "Very well, if they are that important to you, then I'll arrange for them to be brought back so you may examine them."

"I'll pay you," Sirius said in a more conciliatory tone. "The shop keeper deserves to get her money."

"I know you will pay for them," Dumbledore said.

He gave Sirius an ironic look. "For now, I suggest that you go to the Hospital Wing. I promise that Poppy won't try to hit you over the head with a bedpan this time."

Sirius rubbed the side of his head in remembrance. "Didn't you tell her that I was with the Order?" he complained.

"I did inform her that you were innocent, that you had never tried to kill Harry, and that you were working with me against Voldemort," Dumbledore's beard twitched.

"I believe the assault with the bedpan was in retaliation for several years ago."

"What?" Sirius said in astonishment. "We never pranked Madam Pomfrey… at least, not badly enough for her to remember it after all these years!"

"Do you remember the time that you and James saw fit to reduce the capacity of the bedpans to slightly less than a teaspoon?"

"Oh, but we only did that once… or twice…" Sirius protested. "Three times at the most."

"Still, as I recall, there was quite a... stink... shall we say? When the patients tried to use the bedpans." Dumbledore looked at Sirius sternly. "Not to mention the fact that it was highly uncomfortable for the patients."

Sirius tilted his head to one side as he pried the details of those particular pranks out of the morass that Azkaban had made of his memory. "I'm sure that we only pulled that stunt when all the patients were Slytherins!" he protested.

"That's not an adequate defence," Dumbledore said dryly. "By the way, I would recommend that you not remind Severus about that particular incident," Dumbledore said. "Remember, he's the one in charge of making Harry's potions."

Sirius' eyes narrowed. "You don't think that the slimy git would do something to Harry, do you?"

"No," Dumbledore paused. "Nothing that would cause lasting harm, I'm sure. However, there's the taste factor of these potions to take into consideration."

Sirius sighed. "I'll be good," he promised glumly.

"I expect you to set a good example for Harry," Dumbledore agreed.

Sirius shook his head, thinking that James would not be so proud of him. He stalked grandly toward Dumbledore's secret door, but his exit was ruined when he stepped on a small, greenish sphere and sat down… hard… on the brandy soaked rug.

"What the…?" Sirius swore and felt around for the offending object. His attempt to pick it up managed to roll it over to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore picked up the model planet, studied it for several minutes, and then grinned wickedly.

Sirius looked at the older wizard and the model (which was obviously one of the major planets). Dumbledore's twinkling eyes warned him of what was coming next.

"_Don't say it_," Sirius half-growled, half-pleaded.

Dumbledore's grin broadened. "I'm sorry, Sirius, but I'm afraid that you fell on Uranus."

Sirius sighed. "He said it." He dusted himself off, shook his long hair back over his shoulders, and finished stalking out of the room with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances.

Dumbledore looked at the model of Neptune in his gnarled hand and chuckled. "James would have been _so_ proud of me."


	2. Padfoot Pie

A Sirius Situation

A Harry Potter Alternate Universe Story

And the sequel to "A Harry Situation," which is posted at 

By Jill Weber AKA Jelsemium

All recognizable characters © J. K. Rowling.

Chapter 2: Padfoot Pie

Harry did not receive any owls over the weekend. Hagrid had been teaching him how to whittle, but he was getting tired of making wooden whistles. There was nobody to try the twins' tricks on. Hogwarts didn't have television (of course), and he had finished all his Quidditch magazines. By mid-morning on Tuesday, July 16, Harry was bored enough to read Hogwarts, A History.

Well, almost bored enough to read it. He skimmed through the pages trying to find references to hidden passageways or the Chamber of Secrets.

School had been out for almost a month. Everyone else his year was preparing for the shock (good or bad) of O.W.L. results. Thanks to a close encounter with a dragon, Harry had not been able to sit his Ordinary Wizarding Levels. Thanks to some fancy footwork by his professors – including Professor Dustine Binns, of all people – Harry had some Honorary O.W.L.s that would permit him to continue school.

Unfortunately, an Honorary O.W.L. only counted as an 'A' (Acceptable). There were some N.E.W.T. classes that he couldn't take if he didn't have an 'E' (Exceeds Expectations) or even an 'O' (Outstanding). He needed an 'E' for Transfiguration. Snape refused to take any student with less than an 'O' in Potions, not that Harry intended to continue taking Potions.

In fact, the only high point of the last year… aside from being kissed by Ginny Weasley… was that every minute of the unholy amount of the time that he'd spent in the Hospital Wing was time he had not spent in Snape's presence. One of the things that kept him from going utterly spare now was the fact that he would _never_ have to set foot in Snape's disgusting dungeon or endure Snape's snide comments or, if he timed his meals right, even look at Snape's ugly face again.

However, there was no telling what the next Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would require. Come to think of it, Snape still wanted that job.

One of Harry's recurring nightmares involved Snape actually persuading Dumbledore to give him his long coveted position. That would mean that Harry would probably have to get at least an E, (or more likely, an O) to get in to this very-necessary-to-his-future class. He shuddered at the thought of putting up with Snape for another two years.

He picked up his Charms Practice O.W.L. and leafed through it. On the surface, an extra two months to study might seem to give him an advantage. However, having one's head bounced against a stone wall is not beneficial to one's short-term memory. Harry was beginning to feel anxious every time he tried to take a practice O.W.L.

He was beginning to understand how Hermione felt when she started urging them to study for a test that was, well, two months away.

The very idea of thinking like Hermione was enough to make him want to crawl under the bed. That is, when he wasn't busy heartily (and sincerely) wishing that Hermione was there to help him study. He wondered if he could hire her as a tutor.

Not only would she be a tremendous help, it would be great to be able to talk to somebody who wasn't groveling or grumbling. Madam Pomfrey was kind, but it was obvious that she'd rather be somewhere else. (Frankly, Harry couldn't blame her; he didn't want to be there, either.) Dobby the house-elf was doing his best to be helpful, but he had a tendency to gush and fuss at Harry.

The door to the Hospital Wing creaked open and Harry sat up straighter. Any visitor short of Snape or Voldemort would be welcome at this point. (Harry wouldn't even have minded seeing the Dursleys, he was that bored.)

A dark, doggy nose poked around the door and Harry began to grin.

The doggy nose quivered.

Harry let out a bark. "I'm awake, _Snuffles_."

The doggy nose disappeared. The door finished opening and Sirius strode in. "Really, Harry, you have to be more careful…" His stern, fatherly lecture was interrupted by the unexpected arrival of a fluffy white, lemon-scented pie. For the second time that day, Sirius sat down abruptly.

A jolt of pain ran up his spine from his already sore tailbone. Startled and embarrassed, Sirius swore as he wiped the creamy filling out of his eyes. Then he gave his godson a ferocious look.

Harry began to regret giving in to impulse. "Erm, so, do you like the Twin's newest trick? It's based on an old Muggle joke…" he was babbling as Sirius approached him.

Sirius was looming over him, now, dripping foam onto Harry's bed.

"Harry, my boy," he said in a dangerously quiet voice.

"It's a shaving cream pie… It was _your_ idea, remember?" Harry said trying to inch away from the ominous expression on Sirius' face.

"I mentioned shaving cream pies as substitute for real pies," Sirius said. "In an attempt to trick me into eating one."

"Oh, well, the pie in the face gag is a classic… at least, in the Muggle world. They really love it. Fred and George hadn't even heard of it, but they loved the idea when I mentioned it to them."

"I'm sure they did," Sirius growled.

"They're self-propelled, face-seeking pies," Harry added. "They start off the size of a Knut and then expand…" The look on Sirius' face robbed him of his voice.

"You've forgotten the first rule of pranking," Sirius continued in that gently ominous manner.

"Erm…" Harry managed.

"_Always_ have an escape route arranged _before_ you play a prank," Sirius said. He leaned over Harry, placing his hands on either side of the boy. Shaving cream dripped plastered his long, black hair against his gaunt face, giving him a lean and hungry look. His sinister grin made him look as homicidal as his reputation.

A dollop of foam plopped onto Harry's nose. "Eep."

"Now I'm going to have to teach you…"

"MR. BLACK!" bellowed a startled Poppy Pomfrey.

Sirius jumped back guiltily, changing into the giant canine known as Padfoot (among other things.) It was fortunate for him that the altitude of his head went from human height to dog height, because he narrowly missed being hexed.

Harry jumped, too. He shrank down and burrowed under his blankets.

Madam Pomfrey glared at the cat-sized lump. "Mr. Potter! Back into human form! Now!"

The blankets twisted and the lump under them lengthened.

Madam Pomfrey glared at Padfoot. "You wicked, vile…" She raised her wand threateningly.

Padfoot whimpered, flattened himself on the floor and looked up to Poppy Pomfrey's face with the saddest, most put-upon expression ever to cross a canine visage.

Naturally, Poppy melted like a quart of Florian Fortescue's Raspberry Fudge Ripple that had been hit with an _Infernus_ hex.

"You bad dog!" she said sternly, but with a note of fondness in her voice.

Padfoot, sensing a weakness in her armor, thumped his tail and made puppy eyes like mad.

It was somewhat overdone. Madam Pomfrey had to laugh, though. She shook her head at him, relieved to have Sirius back as the charming prankster rather than stalking the corridors as a mad wand murderer. Then she sobered a bit, as she wasn't sure how he'd take her announcement. "You'd better stay as you are, _Snuffles_. Mr. Potter has a visitor."

Harry cautiously pulled himself out of hiding.

Padfoot sat up; ears cocking forward, alarmingly large teeth becoming visible in what was not a grin, doggy or otherwise.

"The Headmaster has approved of this visit, so don't get hostile," she said.

"Who is it?" Harry wanted to know.

"Mr. Ollivander, from Ollivander's Fine Wands," Madam Pomfrey replied. "The Headmaster is having a chat with him. They'll be dropping by in half an hour or so. Headmaster Dumbledore wanted to be sure that you had enough time to make yourself presentable."

Dumbledore also give the visitor a chance to betray himself, should this turn out to be some hostile wizard impersonating Mr. Ollivander. The Polyjuice potion that allowed one wizard to take on the form of another wizard only lasted for an hour.

Nobody said that, but the thought crossed the minds of at least two of the people present. Harry wasn't sure if Madam Pomfrey was paranoid enough to think of things like that.

"Mr. Ollivander must be here to deliver my mum's wand," Harry said, suddenly remembering.

Padfoot looked at him with wide eyes. Then the dog began to pace.

"Sit boy! Stay!" Pomfrey said. She cocked her head at Harry. "What's this about your mother's wand?"

"I found her first wand in a trunk that she'd left with my Aunt Petunia," Harry explained. "It… the trunk I mean, had an aversion charm cast on it so my Aunt and Uncle wouldn't poke around in the trunk. The charm also made them forget about the trunk entirely. I found it last summer, when I was helping my aunt clean out the attic. It had a lot of my mother's stuff in it… like these sham pillows."

Harry gestured at the pillows behind his head.

"Ah, I remember those," Madam Pomfrey said with approval. "Your mother took an old charm and improved on it. She made it so the charm was intrinsic to the item, so that Muggle students didn't have to cast it and risk getting in trouble for practicing magic outside of school. With it, the Muggle students could pack or store bulky items, such as blankets or cloaks…"

"Or pillows," Harry said.

"Indeed," Madam Pomfrey nodded. "I believe she had a patent on that charm, too. I expect that her estate still receives royalties from those pillows."

"Oh!" Harry was startled. He hadn't really thought about where his money was coming from. In fact, it hadn't occurred to him that money might still be going into his account. He had assumed that he was living off a fixed amount of money and that he needed to be careful.

"I wonder if there's any other money being added to my account," he mused.

Padfoot gave out a hearty "Woof!" and wagged his tail.

"Was that a 'Yes' bark or a 'No' bark?" Harry asked the nurse.

Madam Pomfrey shrugged. "I wouldn't know," she said. "And I wouldn't expect _Snuffles_ to know much about your finances, you'd have to talk to an accountant about that."

Padfoot gave another bark, whether in protest because she kept calling him "Snuffles" or because she didn't believe he knew about the Potter's finances, Harry couldn't say. He'd have to wait to find out, too. He sighed. Well, at least he wasn't bored anymore.

Now, do you need my help in cleaning up this mess before your guest arrives?" Madam Pomfrey eyed the splattered bits of lemon-scented shaving cream with a sniff of disapproval.

"No, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said hastily. "I can clean this up myself."

Padfoot woofed a protest.

"It's not like cleaning charms are difficult," Harry said. "Ginny taught me this one." He waved his wand. "_Scourgify_!"

The lemony shaving cream rearranged itself from random splatters to letters. The letters formed themselves into words. The finished message read: "You didn't really think it would be that easy to get rid of this, did you? – Love and Flying Pies, Gred and Forge."

The bits of foam then began to dance across the floor, singing "Lemon tree, very pretty, and the flowers smell so sweet. But the fruit of the poor lemon tree is impossible to _beat_!"

Padfoot made a peculiar choking noise. It a human, it might have been a stifled laugh.

Madam Pomfrey kept a straight face, somehow.

"Well, I might need a _bit_ of help at that," Harry sighed.

XXX XXX XXX

Author's Notes:

I haven't recovered from NaNoWriMo yet, I keep running the word counter every other paragraph! (2,144 on this chapter, including author's notes.)

Malach: Thanks, I hope this lives up to your expectations!

Everpresent: Thanks! Your lovely comments are one of the reasons I was determined to write this. Glad I made you happy!

Annikaya: Thanks! Hope you find this amusing, too!

Andrea13: Hello, again! I'm so glad you came back for round two! Thanks for saying what parts you particularly liked.

Hi, Alla! Thanks for dropping by! (Don't scream in your office, I'd hate to get banned. ;)

Chance Light: Thanks for the kind words! I'm glad you liked "A Harry Situation" enough to stop by to check out the sequel!

Crystal Blue: Thanks! I can't guarantee that all updates will be this fast, but I have quite a bit of this story written, and I have some catching up to do.


	3. Hermione and Her Cousins

A Sirius Situation

Chapter 3: Hermione and Her Cousins

By Jelsemium

All recognizable characters are copyrighted by the wondrous, talented, J. K. Rowling who is going to give me one heck of a birthday present next year, as Book Six (AKA Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince) is coming out ON MY BIRTHDAY!)

Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Xxxx Xxxx Xxxx

Again, my apologies for the delay in this chapter. Reality has been messing with (what's left of) my mind. The huge Database Project that I and my co-workers sweated over a year to implement and have sweated for the past two years to keep running smoothly… is going to be trashed. Yay.

All I wanted for Christmas is a shotgun, but Santa wouldn't go for that.

Enough whining, on to the story…

Xxxx Xxxx Xxxx

Her parents meant well, Hermione reminded herself of that, firmly, several times a day. However, she could not for the life of her figure out why her parents thought that going on holiday with her mother's cousins was a good idea. Her mother's first cousins, Jake and Annie Hobhouse, had bought a bed and breakfast in the county of Cumbria, near the Scottish border. Annie had asked the Grangers to stay with them for a week or so. Hermione remembered the conversation clearly… it had actually amused her at the time.

_"Your father and I already have business to deal with that week. Much as we'd like to spend time with my cousins, we can only go up for the weekend. If you really don't want to stay longer, Hermione, that will be fine with us. I _know_ you never did have much in common with Bob and Belinda. And I expect you have even less than before you started in Hogwarts. But I think you should spend some time with your cousins. We don't have a very big family you know. And I think that it will do you some good to interact with…" Emma Granger caught herself before she said the Dreaded Words._

_"_Normal_ children?" Hermione asked dryly._

_"Something like that," Emma admitted._

_"Normal as opposed to what?"_

_"Well, with children who aren't in trouble quite so much," Emma said. "You know that Harry and Ron are dears, but they are…"_

_"Mischief makers?" Hermione asked._

_"Well…" Emma hesitated._

_"Trouble prone?" Hermione suggested next._

_"No, that's not quite…"_

_"Danger magnets?" Hermione tried to hide her smile, but wasn't quite successful._

_"Well, I wasn't going to bring that up…"_

_"Sanity challenged?"_

_"You would know better than…"_

_"They're _boys_," Hermione said decisively. She gave a few coughs in her attempt to not laugh._

_" 'Adventuresome' was the word I was looking for," Emma finally managed to get in edgewise. "Besides, your cousin Bob is a boy… last I heard. You only have to put up with them for a week, ten days, tops. I'm sure you're mature enough that you can get along with them for that short a time. Besides, you might surprise yourself by learning to like them."_

_"I doubt that," Hermione said._

_"You didn't like Ron and Harry when you first met them," her mother reminded her._

Hermione sighed. She never could resist a challenge. And being 'mature' around her cousins, Bob and Belinda Hobhouse and their friends, Geordie and Tanya Blunt, was definitely a challenge.

Belinda and Tanya were the Muggle equivalent of Lavender and Parvati. Only they lacked Lavender and Parvati's looks, intelligence and common sense. (Yes, Hermione had finally met girls with less common sense than her roommates. Life, as they say, is full of surprises.)

Bob was forever trying to talk with a "Cockney" accent, which oddly enough made him sound more like an American than someone who had been born within the sound of Bow Bells. Geordie Blunt was just an ordinary, nasty teen age boy, not unlike the Slytherins, or even Ron on a bad day.

(It was people like her cousins and the Blunts that made her understand the joy… or at least the temptation… of Muggle-baiting.)

Fortunately, the bed-and-breakfast near Hel's Forge that the Hobhouses had bought was more than large enough for the four adults and five teens that had descended on it. The building had originally been a priory, but it had been abandoned in the late 1800's. In the 1980's, someone had the bright idea of fixing it up and using it to rake in some tourist money. Considering that the Hobhouses had picked it up for peanuts, the Grangers suspected that it hadn't been raking in much.

Hermione didn't understand why business wasn't better. The Priory was in a picturesque setting, amid rolling hills and bubbling streams. The house itself had been modernized just enough to be comfortable without losing any of its rustic charm. There was an excellent golf course less than an hour's drive. The village of Hel's Forge was over a gentle hill and across a small river. In good weather, it was a pleasant hike of an hour or so.

Of course, the constant repair work that the Priory needed may have had something to do with its lack of income. The building was sturdy enough, but some of the renovations, like the electric generator and the plumbing, were constantly breaking down. The rooms, fortunately, came equipped with fireplaces and duvets as well as central heating and electric blankets. Even though the nights were chilly, nobody was uncomfortably cold.

Hermione and her cousins managed to be civil while their parents were around. The first walk to Hel's Forge for tea went off without a hitch. Hermione wanted to explore the older section of the town, but was out-voted in favor of the modern tea shop. She wasn't too upset. She'd have a whole week to explore on her own.

However, as luck would have it, the weather turned foul. Instead of the lovely picnics next to gentle streams and invigorating hikes that they'd been promised, the five teens found themselves penned up in an old fashioned priory with each other. Mr. and Mrs. Hobhouse were pre-occupied with renovations and repairs. Unfortunately, the modernizations did not yet include television, and the radio reception was spotty during the best of weather conditions, that meant the teens were left to their own devices.

The other four teens tried baiting Hermione, to see if they could make her more miserable than they were. However, she found it easy to ignore them as they couldn't measure up to the Weasley twins in alarming pranks, the Slytherins for sheer nastiness, or even Ron for completely annoying behavior.

What made it even harder to get under Hermione's skin was her general good mood, as she was actually enjoying herself. The Old Priory had an excellent library and, considering the weather and lack of other occupations, no one was nagging at her to get her nose out of said books.

No one besides her cousins and their friends, that is. They could not find a better way to pass the time than to harass her when they weren't playing Truth or Dare. Occasionally, they tried to drag Hermione into the game. Hermione wasn't clear on what the game entailed, but was entirely certain she wanted no part of something that sounded like an excuse to humiliate people.

On the morning of the third day, Hermione began to feel a little sorry for the other teens. They were bored. So she decided to see if she could get on their good side by making something different for tea.

She had done well in Potions, in spite of Snape. She should be able to fix something on the old fashioned stove that was in the kitchen. She'd spent a few hours poking around in the kitchen and was fairly certain that she could make a passable tea. She was sitting at the table looking up something simple to make, when her cousins decided to put in an appearance.

"Oh, there's Hermione, with her _nose_ in a book!" sang out Geordie, as if he'd said something witty. He brushed back his long, blond hair. He fancied himself a lady-killer. He reminded Hermione of Gilderoy Lockhart… only not as good looking, nor as intelligent.

Her cousin Bob, chimed in with, "Show Cousin Hermione a pile o' books and she's happy as a clam, ain't that right, ducks?" Hermione's dark haired cousin was actually not too bad looking. At least, he wouldn't be if he weren't constantly sneering at everybody.

Hermione couldn't figure out what he had to sneer about. He'd never done well in school, and if Belinda and Tanya were to be believed, he had no luck with girls, either.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why, yes, Cousin Robert, I find books to be very entertaining. Maybe if you tried reading a bit, you wouldn't be so bored… or so boring."

Bob put his hands over his heart and feigned a swoon of agony. "You've broken me heart, ducks!"

"I doubt that you had one to begin with," Hermione replied. She turned her attention back to the herbal that she'd found tucked between two more modern cookbooks.

"What'cha readin'," Tanya drawled in what she fondly imagined was a sultry voice. She fiddled with her blond hair. If Hermione had been cattier, she'd have bet that the hair color had come from a bottle instead of Tanya's head. (Which was a surprise, Tanya's brother was a blond. He must have inherited the blond genes. Tanya obviously inherited the family brains, such as they were. But Hermione was not going to be catty and think those sort of things.)

"It's an herbal," Hermione replied calmly, flipping through the pages. "I found it in the library."

"A what?" Tanya asked.

"A book about herbs, luv," Bob said patiently. "Plannin' on makin' a spot of tea, then?"

"That, too," Hermione admitted. "There are some interesting puddings in here, too. I thought I might try an apple fool."

"An April Fool?" sniggered Tanya.

"An Apple Fool," Hermione said calmly. "It's a lot like apple sauce All it takes is apples, lemon, cinnamon and custard. I think I can handle that."

She noticed that Belinda was staying uncharacteristically quiet, and wondered why. Her unspoken question was answered a few minutes later.

"So, Cousin Hermione, tell me, are there any books in the library about… _ghosts_?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow as Belinda flushed angrily and the other three teens snickered.

Hermione wondered if the other three had been playing pranks. Belinda was pretty and she was usually impeccably groomed. (Belinda would get along with Lavender and Parvati, Hermione thought.) However, today, Belinda's dark hair was pulled back in a hasty pony tail. And, unless Hermione's eyes were going, Belinda hadn't put on any makeup. It didn't even look like she was wearing lipstick.

"Oh, tell her about the ghost you saw last night, Bellie!" Bob chortled.

"Shut up, Bob," Belinda hissed.

Hermione felt a surge of sympathy for her.

"_Dear_ Hermione, you _can_ tell her about the history of the ghosts here, can't you?" Tanya sniggered. Her overly made up eyelashes fluttered. Hermione spared a moment to wonder why her lashes didn't glue themselves shut. Then she shunted that thought away. That's the sort of thing that led to involuntary magic. She didn't want to get a warning owl at all, but in front of her Muggle cousins… well, things could get ugly.

The other four teens were watching her. Three clearly with the eager expectation that she would back them up and join them in taunting Belinda. Belinda was watching her with resignation. Even if Hermione hadn't known any supernatural creatures, she'd been on the receiving end of this sort of torment too often to join in on it. (Even if she did have the occasional daydream about Muggle baiting.)

Besides, it went against her scholarly nature not to lecture when she had the chance. "I have found some books dealing with the history of this priory," Hermione said. "But no, none of them had any information about any supernatural entities haunting the premises. I can do some more research if you think this building is haunted."

She paused and frowned. "I believe that the previous owner is required by law to disclose if this building has a history of any paranormal activities."

Belinda was startled, and rather gratified. The other three looked at Hermione liked she'd spouted an extra head. Maybe a little Muggle-baiting wouldn't be so far out of line…?

"You don't believe in _ghosts_, do you?" Bob blurted, dropping his wretched attempts at a Cockney accent. "I mean, that batty old codger that Mum and Dad bought this place from had to knock the price down because he said there were ghosts, but that's all just nonsense, innit?"

"Well, most of the recent books are rather unconvincing," Hermione said. ("_Recent_ meaning _Muggle_," she added to herself.) "However, it's very difficult to prove a negative."

"Huh?" Geordie said.

"That was perfectly clear English, Mr. Blunt," Hermione said in clipped tones that reminded her of Prof. McGonagall. It must have reminded the other four of somebody, because they unconsciously straightened up. "It's difficult to prove a negative. For example, if you want to prove that there are numbers divisible by five, you only need to find one example of a number that can be divided by five. However, if you want to prove that there are _no_ numbers divisible by five, you have to show that every single number that exists cannot be divided by five."

"But there are lots of numbers divisible by five," Geordie protested.

(Where were the Weasley twins when you needed them? Muggle baiting was not only looking acceptable, but quite attractive!)

"That was just an example," Belinda snapped. "In other words, in order to prove that there are no ghosts, you would have to investigate every ghost sighting in history and prove that it was a mistake or a hoax."

"Exactly," Hermione said. She restrained herself from adding "full marks."

"Oh," Geordie said. "So, do you believe in ghosts?"

Hermione wished she had some spectacles to look over. That always lent authority to Professor McGonagall's dirty looks. "I've seen… bizarre things at the school I go to," she admitted.

She wondered what the others would think if she mentioned Nearly Headless Nick, the Bloody Baron, the Fat Friar or Peeves. She decided not to find out. Being friends with Harry Potter had given her a thorough understanding of what it felt like to be thought insane.

"Is that a yes or a no?" Belinda asked. She looked ready to burst into tears.

"Until there's absolute proof either way, I'm keeping my mind open," Hermione said after thinking a moment.

Bob threw his hands in the air. "I knew she was barmy." He headed off, with Tanya and Geordie in tow.

Geordie was protesting. "She's such a swot, maybe there's something to this ghost business…"

"Oh, don't be such an idiot, Geordie," Tanya said.

The arguing faded away, and ended as a door slammed somewhere.

Belinda made a wry face. "Thank you for that," she said.

"You're welcome," Hermione made a wry face of her own. "I know what it feels like to be teased."

Belinda sighed. "Touché," she admitted. "I'm sorry now that I ever teased anybody."

"Well, a _little_ teasing is okay," Hermione said. "Just… tone it down a bit, okay?" She got up and began to prepare the ingredients for the Apple Fool.

"Deal," Belinda said. She wandered around fingering the furniture and watching Hermione work. "So, Cousin, _are_ there any books here that can explain what has been happening?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "What happened to make you think of ghosts?"

Belinda sighed. "A lot of little things. One, my curling wand keeps disappearing and reappearing in strange places, like the top of the wardrobe, or in a vase, or under my bed…"

"Oh."

"Naturally, I suspected my brother and his pet baboon… I mean, his very good friend, Geordie."

Hermione snickered.

"Have you noticed that the stupid radios only pick up on one station? The local one where the people do nothing but talk about land use and taxes?"

Hermione frowned. "I was listening to a classical station last night. Granted the reception wasn't very good."

"Well, maybe they had something new," Belinda sighed. "My parents took mine so they could listen in on the local gossip. They couldn't get their radio to work at all. You know the reason we don't have a telly here is because there isn't any reception… but the teashop in Hel's Forge had a telly!"

Hermione shook her head. "Reception can be a funny thing," she said. But she was already comparing the problems with electrical devices at the priory with the problems with electrical devices as Hogwarts. Magic did funny things to electronic devices.

"Yes, well, all that can be explained away, but … I have a lighted make up mirror, and I keep seeing… things in it," Belinda looked ready to burst into tears.

"Things? Like what?" Hermione asked. Her brow crinkled and a worried look came into her eyes.

Apparently, Belinda was reassured when Hermione didn't start laughing.

"I keep seeing someone behind me," she said with a shudder. His mouth moves but no sound comes out. When I look over my shoulder, there's nobody there." She gave a sniff and tears began to form in her eyes. "I can make out some of what he says… and the fact that he makes gestures to illustrate his meaning…" she swallowed hard.

Hermione's eyes went wide. She'd read stories where things like that had happened. "You called it a 'he?'" she said in questioning tones.

Belinda scowled. "I've seen him in the mirror. No clothes and quite a big… well, quite obviously male."

"Has it ever touched you?"

Belinda shook her head. "No, but last night… I was taking a bath when my hair dryer came sailing across the room and landed in the water! Naturally, I screamed." She dabbed at her eyes and Hermione handed her a handkerchief.

Hermione patted her on the back. "There, there," she said. "What happened after you screamed, then?"

Belinda blushed. "The others came running, but they didn't see anything but me in my robe. The hair dryer was on the sink, completely dry. They thought I was having them on… or having a dream." She took a deep breath. "The worst was this morning, before dawn. I was in bed and something…" she took another deep breath. "Something tried to drag me out of bed! I couldn't move, I couldn't make a sound, but there was this horrible snorting… right in my ear! And I just knew that if I got pulled off the bed that something horrible would happened."

"Have you told your parents?" Hermione asked.

"They won't believe me," Belinda said wearily. A few more tears crept down her cheek. "They were told that the Priory is reputed to be haunted, but they didn't believe the land agent. They agree with Bob that the supernatural is all rubbish. I used to think so, too. Until… until… Hermione, I think it meant… I think this _thing_ wants to rape me."

A clump of ice seemed to form in Hermione's stomach. If the Priory was haunted, that would explain a lot of things about it. And if this was a hostile spirit rather than some poor, forlorn ghost, then Belinda could very well be in danger. Obviously somebody had to do something. She could probably get help from Professor Dumbledore or the Weasleys. However, she needed more information about what threat they were facing.

"Belinda, do you own a crucifix?" Hermione asked. She flipped through the herbal as she spoke. This book was old enough to have useful information about the use of herbs to fend off nasty spirits.

Belinda shook her head. "But Mum was talking about taking us to the village for a bit of shopping today," she said. "You know, to make up for us being cooped up all the time. There were some nice jewelry shops, so I can get one there."

"Excellent," Hermione said. "Find a plain gold one, the older the better. I'm sure there are some antique shops. While you're doing that, I can do some more research. If this Priory is haunted, then somebody will know more about what's going on."

"Do you think there really is a ghost here?" Belinda asked.

"Maybe. I'd wondered why this priory hasn't done better as a bed and breakfast. It's in a nice setting, the prices are reasonable. Come to think of it, the fact that this property was abandoned for so long is highly suspicious. I might be able to find more information in the village."

"Hermione, you're a life saver," Belinda threw her arms around her and gave her a warm hug.

"Pity Ron never reacts like that when I help him," Hermione thought. She knew he liked her, but sometimes… well, a little appreciation would be nice.

XXX 30 XXX

Author's Notes:

You people are da bomb! Seriously! _You_ (yes, **_YOU_**) are the reason I finally managed to push through the Shock of Order of the Phoenix and start writing again. Thanks!

Nimbirosa – Good point. I'm changing the last line of this chapter now.

Wren Truesong -- Thanks for the lovely, lovely reviews of A Harry Situation! I'm so thrilled that you took the time to say what you liked best! (Happy belated birthday!) I should check over at Sugar Quill to see if the chapters ever got set up properly. Thanks, but I actually won at NaNoWriMo for number of words rather than content. :)

everpresent -- Thanks for reviewing! I'm sorry if some chapters are too short. Some chapters have just too good a punch line to resist.

Andrea13 -- Don't die, you'll miss the really GOOD chapters! Glad you like my version of Sirius!

Wren Truesong -- Thanks again! I'm glad you like the idea that Lily's patent is still bringing Harry in some money. I have other ideas where his money is coming from. I may get them into a later chapter. I can just see Tonks saying "Wizard Chick." You QUOTE me? Wow, that's probably the most flattering thing you can do for a writer!

Malexandria -- Hi! Thanks for reviewing!

anonymous -- Yes, I'm in denial of Sirius being dead. And here's in my denial. I hope it lives up to your expectations!

michele -- Thanks! Nice to be back!

StarWest45 -- Thanks, glad you like the new story!

CrystalBlue -- Thanks for reviewing! I'll try to be good. I'll also try to be faster

Eris, Queen of Shadows -- Thanks for coming back! Sirius now belongs to the fans, I say. (Bwa-ha-ha!) Thanks for the kind words on the shaving cream dance.

Alla -- Nope, got more story.

Under the Old Oak Tree-- Thanks! Your review made me happy, too!

LileeAlina -- Thanks! Sirius was contemplating making Harry eat the shaving cream pie. Or at least a few bites. Doubt that he'd have actually done it, though. Padfoot isn't the only one who can make Puppy Eyes. PS, I fixed the error in Chapter One. You're right, I meant Madam Pomfrey, not Madam Pince.

Meg -- Thanks for reviewing! Yes, there will be elements from Order of the Phoenix. Members will be introduced. (Tonks is coming soon!) Umbridge (and Fudge) will show up, too. I've got PLANS for them. This story will be about _families_ -- Harry and Sirius, Grangers, Weasleys, etc.

Fate -- Thanks! Hope the rest of the story is up to snuff!

DaBear -- Thanks for writing!

Satchel -- Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you liked A Harry Situation and I hope this is enjoyable, too! I'll _try_ to be faster with the updates.

PS -- Eris, Everpresent -- I try not to repeat myself. The Hospitalized!Harry was last time's schtick. Have other PLANS for the boy this time.


	4. The Burrow is Too Quiet

A Sirius Situation

A Harry Potter Alternate Universe Story

And the sequel to "A Harry Situation," which is posted at

By Jill Weber AKA Jelsemium

All recognizable characters © J. K. Rowling.

Author's Notes: I'm very sorry that this is going so slowly.

Chapter Four: The Burrow is Too Quiet

XXX xxx XXX

There were apple cores, books, bottles of pumpkin fizz, peach pits, scraps of parchment, writing quills, and two Weasley children dotted around the orchard that flanked The Burrow. There was a cool breeze coming from the pond and the summer sounds of birds, crickets, frogs and gnomes gave the setting a peaceful air. The youngest Weasleys were accustomed to coming to this semi-secret spot to escape the noise and bustle of the Burrow.

Last summer, they had retreated to the orchard to escape from numerous, escalating, arguments. When it wasn't their father and older brother Percy disputing the facts of You-Know-Who's return; their mother and the twins were having heated exchanges over Fred and George's "disreputable" career choice.

There were no arguments at the Burrow this summer.

There were no older brothers at the Burrow. Bill and Charlie had moved out years ago. Charlie was still in Romania. While Bill had moved back to England, he had decided that he was too used to living on his own to move back to The Burrow. The twins had moved to a flat above their new shop in Hogsmeade. Percy had moved to a flat in London, claiming that he wanted "to be closer to his important work."

Even when four of the five older boys came for a visit, there weren't any arguments. (Molly's pointed comment or two about the length of Bill's hair didn't count as an argument, it was more of a reflex.)

Molly Weasley was still not happy with the idea of a joke shop. However, even she had to admit that having the twins work in the same city as Percy, let alone the same Ministry building, was like putting Ashwinder eggs in a can of paraffin.

She also had to admit that maybe the Ministry wasn't as respectable a career as she'd always thought. Last year, Cornelius Fudge had incarcerated Harry Potter for the horrendous crime of reporting the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Lucius Malfoy, of all people, had helped Harry regain his freedom in time to get back to school. Now, there was talk of a vote of no confidence.

The idea of Fudge losing his job should have made the Weasleys feel satisfied, but with Lucius Malfoy pushing that movement, they were concerned as to whom the replacement would be. If one of You-Know-Who's followers managed to get elected, there would be the devil to pay.

So, Arthur was putting in a lot of overtime to justify his being at the Ministry for long hours. Bill had resigned his position as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to take a desk job in Gringott's Bank. Both moves were planned so the Weasleys could keep an eye on developments. However, it also meant the only people at the Burrow were Molly, Ron and Ginny. Molly had projects of her own to take care of. Ron and Ginny assumed said 'projects' were for the Order of the Phoenix, but had not been encouraged to ask further questions.

Ginny and Ron had retreated from the unnatural silence in the Burrow to the relative noise and bustle of the trees. They'd degnomed the garden so many times that they were having trouble finding any. They'd weeded, they'd watered, but there were just so many chores that a body could do at one time. Molly finally told them that if they had nothing better to do, that perhaps Ron could start coaching Ginny for her O.W.L.s.

It was a sign of how desperately bored they were that they actually gave very serious thought to the idea. They'd gone so far as to take some of Ron's Practice O.W.L.s outside, along with a good supply of writing materials.

"This is scary, we're beginning to think like Hermione," Ron sighed. He laid flat on his back and looked up at the sky between the trees. He was certain that there was some form of Divination that foretold the future based on the way branches waved about, but he couldn't remember what it was called.

"As opposed to thinking of Hermione?" Ginny suggest archly. She was lying on her stomach, kicking her bare feet idly, and resting her chin in her hands.

She flipped through her history book, _Really Stupid Things that Actually Happened, At Least According to the Same Historians Who Write the History of Magic O.W.L.s, So You'd Better Remember Them Until You've Passed_ looking for the most gruesome incidents to write her summer essay about. Binns always turned such an interesting shade of green when she handed in her assignments.

She wondered if he'd been in Slytherin House.

"At least I manage to get somewhere thinking about Hermione," Ron said. He was idly flipping through a book that he'd found in Percy's room, _Careers That Are Utterly Boring But Will Impress Your In-Laws_.

"Harry and I went on a date," Ginny said.

Ron snorted. "One crummy picnic," he said. "You didn't even get to snog him."

"How would you know if I've snogged Harry or not?"

"Ginny! I've just eaten!"

"Then don't ask about my love life, Ronnie-kins."

"I _didn't_ ask about your love life! You brought it up!"

"Then don't insult my love life or I'll feel like I must contradict you," Ginny said serenely.

"How can I not insult your love life? I heard, from you, that so called date was a disaster!"

"It wasn't our fault, there was this dragon," Ginny said dryly. "Remember? Dragon?"

"I didn't get hit over the head with Gryffindor Tower," Ron replied. "So, why are you sitting around bothering your wonderful brother when you should be writing to the poor, injured love of your life?"

Ginny snorted, but before she could speak, Ron interrupted.

"Dear Harry," Ron said, writing in the air above his head. "I miss your lips. Kissy, kissy, Ginny."

"That's just plain disturbing," Ginny said. "I thought you didn't want to hear about my love life. Besides, aren't you supposed to be getting all big brotherly and protective of my virtue?"

Ron made a gagging sound.

Ginny threw a paper dart at him. "In this case, that means my virginity, not my general behavior," Ginny explained.

"Ewww, don't talk like that," Ron said. He sat up and picked up a half empty bottle of pumpkin fizz and looked like he was considering dumping it on his sister.

"_You're_ the one who brought up Harry's lips!" Ginny retorted.

"Ehh… don't be so logical, you sound like Hermione," Ron said. He evidently decided against giving his sister a sugar shower and downed the remainder in one swallow.

"Are we back on the subject of Hermione again?" Ginny asked.

"Have we ever left it?" Ron asked. He chucked the bottle at the pile of rubbish they needed to bag and continued. "I mean, we're out here _studying_, for Merlin's sake! And it's still _July_!"

Ginny looked around. They'd read a little, started letters to their friends, compiled lists of potential joke products for Fred and George, made goofy sketches of each other and had turned a good number of scraps into paper darts, but not much in the way of studying had been done.

"We aren't nearly as good at being Hermione as Hermione is," Ginny said with mock solemnity.

"You're better at being Hermione than I am," Ron said, with considerable more earnestness than Ginny had managed.

Ginny's coppery eyebrows disappeared into her fringe. "Because I'm a girl?"

"Yeah, that, too."

"What else?" Ginny's brown eyes held curiosity.

"You're good with studying," Ron said, waving one hand vaguely. "You know, you're kind of book smart."

Ginny's ears turned pink at the unexpected compliment. "You're not exactly stupid, you know," she said.

"Yeah, well, books bore me," Ron said unhappily.

"There's nothing wrong with not being a swot," Ginny said.

Ron shrugged.

"Hermione's not going to hold that against you, you know," Ginny added.

Ron shrugged again. "Maybe. But she's so smart. Why would she want to get involved with _me_?"

Ginny squinted. "Have you been Obliviated? In case you forgot, Hermione is _already_ involved with you."

"But I don't get it," Ron sighed. "Why me?"

"Why not you? You're good at chess and strategy," Ginny said. She sprawled on her side and plucked up a piece of grass to chew on.

Ron sighed. "She'll probably get twice as many O.W.L.s as I do."

Ginny giggled. "She'll probably set a school record," she said. "Maybe even get herself mentioned in that Hogwarts Storybook you're always saying that she's in love with."

"Hogwarts: A History," Ron muttered.

"Why don't you write to her?" Ginny said.

"She's on holiday," Ron said in such an off-hand manner that Ginny knew that he was upset.

"Pigwidgeon can find her," Ginny pointed out.

"She's with her cousins," Ron said.

"That won't stop Pigwidgeon," Ginny said. Idly, she began to braid her hair.

"Her cousins are Muggles, remember?" Ron said, a trifle annoyed. "They don't know about owl post, or the wizarding world. Statute of Secrecy, remember?"

Ginny blushed. "Oh, right. Can't you use Muggle post? Mum mailed Harry a letter. I'm sure we can work out the Muggle post office for ourselves."

Ron opened his mouth to make a cutting retort, and suddenly realized that his bratty little sister was making sense. He also thought it was scary to hear his bratty little sister talking like such a rational human being. "Maybe," he said. "First, I've got to think of something to write."

"Dear Hermione," Ginny said, writing in the air. "I miss your lips."

She managed to dodge the pumpkin fizz shower.

XXX xxx

Author's notes:

Thanks for sticking with me so far!

Nimbirosa

Hi, thanks for reviewing! (As you can see, I changed the ending.) Sorry that I'm not updating very fast. I'll try to be quicker!

Satchel 

Thanks for the review. Yes, we'll be getting more romance stuff. Sorry, I'm really slow at the romance stuff.

Amiable Dorsai

Thanks! Glad you still want a sequel! Thanks for mentioning the parts that you liked.

I don't think Dumbledore needs insurance. He's a powerful wizard!

everpresent

Hi! Thanks for the review. Yes, it is a scary situation for a young woman.

Good call on the Weasleys.

LileeAlina

Hi! Thanks for the review. Good question about Belinda. Sorry I didn't make it clear, cousins are around Hermione's age. I think Bob is older and Belinda is a little younger, but not much.

nana-hedwig

Thanks for all of the reviews! Glad you liked "A Harry Situation" enough to look for the sequel. And thanks for saying what parts you liked!

cestmoi-lily

Thanks! Sorry that this is going so slow.

Samli

Thanks for the review! It means a lot to me to get comments from other writers. I'm so glad my characterizations work. I really appreciate all my readers!

Fiery Goddess of Ice

Thanks for the review! I'll try to step up the pace!


	5. Sirius Wand Work

A Sirius Situation

The REAL Chapter 5: Sirius Wand Work

Author: Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, JK Rowling does

_I deeply apologize for the long delay in getting this story up. I've run into numerous delays and once stopped, it was hard to get the muse back in motion. I'm going to be posting this in sections, so no more nasty cliffhangers. I sincerely hope that you enjoy this and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your patience in putting up with me. _

_I also apologize for any confusion with Chapter 5 and 6. Some of you have noticed that there was a strange gap between Chapter 4 and Chapter 5 because I put the wrong Chapter 5 up._

"Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow," Ollivander, of Ollivander's Fine Wands Since 382 BC. "Good for Charms work." The wand maker's misty grey eyes made Harry feel uneasy. He wondered if there was something not quite right about Ollivander. The moment the wand maker had come into the Hospital Wing, Harry had felt as if something was about to happen.

"Good, morning, Harry," Dumbledore said, as if Ollivander had uttered a more conventional greeting. The Headmaster and the Wand maker had arrived just has Dobby had begun to lay out tea for Harry. Having been warned of Ollivander's arrival, Harry had insisted on getting dressed.

He liked the pyjamas that Sirius had bought him (through Remus), but he didn't feel comfortable talking to Mr. Ollivander while dressed in red flannel covered in frolicking gold hippogriffs. (Literally frolicking. The pictures on the pyjamas actually moved.)

Madam Pomfrey had not been happy about him getting out of bed, even if it was just to change his clothes, but she had to admit that Mr. Ollivander made her nervous, too.

So, Harry was now lying on top of his duvet, dressed in jeans and a red t-shirt with the legend "Stubby Boardman and the Hobgoblins" written across the front in gold lettering. On his feet were his get well present from Ginny… fluffy, golden Snitch slippers.

Privately, Harry thought they looked silly, but he supposed he'd better get used to wearing them so Ginny could see them on his feet. He was growing so fast now, it was only a matter of months before they would stop fitting. At least they kept his feet warm, he consoled himself.

Ollivander was dressed in non-descript clothes that looked like they were layered under the same dust that covered the shelves of boxes in his shop.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked as though he had absent-mindedly wandered through a food fight. His sky blue robes had irregular blotches of egg yolk yellow, grape juice purple, tomato red, and pea soup green splattered across it in a random pattern.

Fred and George would have a fit if they could see these, Harry decided. The twins had been so proud of their Eye Endangering Mutant Peacock dress robes that they'd given him for his fifteenth birthday. He just knew they'd go spare trying to outdo _these_ eye-sore robes!

"Would Headmaster Dumbledore and Wand-master Ollivander care for some tea?" the house-elf asked politely.

It may have been Harry's imagination, but it seemed to him that the House-elf was watching Ollivander cautiously. Dobby had broken free of his conditioning to warn Harry about the plot to open the Chamber of Secrets. Harry had managed to trick Dobby's owner, Lucius Malfoy, into freeing the House-elf. Since then, as uncomfortable as it made Harry feel, Dobby had been a huge fan.

"Thank you, Dobby, I believe that a spot of tea would do me good just now," Ollivander murmured.

"Yes, Mr. Ollivander," Dobby said deferentially. Dobby bowed to the two wizards and snapped his fingers. Two small bedside tables trotted forward, followed by two not-really-comfortable looking folding chairs. He poured steaming tea from a small blue and bronze teapot into a matching teacup. Dobby had chosen Ravenclaw colors for Ollivander, Harry noted absently.

Dobby set the pot and cup down on the table that was the farthest from Harry.

It was _not_ his imagination. Dobby _was_ wary of Ollivander. Harry knew that Dobby had powerful magic, and would not hesitate to use it to protect him and Harry began to worry. During the year that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, Dobby tried several times to "protect" Harry. Once, by almost getting him expelled, and once by nearly getting him killed. Dobby in protective mode was _almost_ as dangerous to the one he was protecting as it was to the enemy.

"I trust you will let us know if you are not feeling up to this visit, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, sir," Harry murmured. He didn't take his eyes off Ollivander, though. He couldn't help but think of Alastor Moody's favorite phrase – "Constant Vigilance!" Harry wondered how long Dumbledore had known Ollivander. He snapped to himself suddenly. "Erm, sorry, I mean, please have a seat and join me," he said.

He gestured to the tables, which now held plates of scones, and bowls filled sugar, jam and clotted cream.

Dobby was pouring tea into a cup for the Headmaster. (Harry noted that Dumbledore's tea pot and cup were scarlet and gold.)

Ollivander approached Harry's bed and the grim figure of Padfoot rose from a crouch, the ruff of his neck standing up and a low growl issuing from his throat. Obviously, Dobby wasn't the only one concerned about Ollivander's presence.

"Ah, yes," Ollivander said. He looked over his glasses at the monstrous canine without blinking. "I wondered when you would show up again."

"Did Ollivander know that Padfoot was an Animagus?" Harry wondered. There was no way he could ask anybody, of course. He just had to keep calm and keep alert.

"Easy, there, Snuffles," Dumbledore said in a warning tone of voice. He held up his hand in a placating manner. "Ollivander is completely trustworthy." The elderly wizard eyed the chair Dobby had set up for him with an air of dissatisfaction.

The chair managed to look abashed.

Dumbledore plucked his wand out of thin air and waved it at the offending piece of furniture and the folding chair morphed into a squashy scarlet armchair with gold lace antimacassars on the arms and back. The chair now gave off an air of comfort… and smugness.

"You flatter me, Albus," Ollivander said it a tiny smile. "I don't think that _anybody_ is completely trustworthy. However, you know my peccadilloes." He smiled at Harry. "Sometimes, young man, being able to predict how a person will react to any given set of circumstances is better than being able to trust them."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "I know your family's traditions regarding the Ministry of Magic, and your own personal opinion of Cornelius Fudge. On top of that, I think I can safely say that we are of the same religion when it comes to the Dementors of Azkaban.

"Foul things," Ollivander said calmly. "My family has always opposed using them in any capacity."

Padfoot had settled down next to Harry's bed, and was eying Ollivander watchfully.

Harry wondered if Sirius could feel that Ollivander had something up his sleeve. Dumbledore may have trusted the man, but Harry could remember him saying that Voldemort had done "great things." He wasn't sure if he wanted to trust Ollivander, or find out what the elderly wand maker had up his sleeve.

If Dumbledore felt uneasy, he gave no sign of it.

Ollivander pulled a long, oblong gold box out of the sleeve of his robe.

"You realize, Mr. Potter, that you will never get as good a result when you use somebody else's wand," Ollivander said. He gently laid the wand box on the bed side table, where it clinked against Harry's teacup.

"I fear that's one thing that has been holding Mr. Neville Longbottom back for so long," Ollivander continued. "His talents are not a good match for his father's, I'm afraid."

"Oh," Harry said blankly, wondering how Neville had snuck into the conversation. He fingered the wand box.

"Young Mr. Longbottom has something in common with you, Mr. Potter," Ollivander continued.

"Really?" Harry said. He put the wand box down and fidgeted with his tea cup. He'd been hungry before Ollivander and Dumbledore had come into the office, but his appetite seemed to have vanished.

Padfoot must have sensed his discomfort, for he sat up abruptly. The Grim's pale eyes never left Ollivander.

"Yes, both of you take after your mother, talent-wise," Ollivander said. "I've always felt that Young Mr. Longbottom would have been better off using his mother's wand."

"Oh," Harry said. He seemed to be saying that a lot.

"Your father's expertise lay in Transfiguration," Ollivander continued. "Your mother was better at Charms."

"Oh… I see," Harry amended quickly. "I'm best at Defence," he added.

Ollivander nodded. "However, you are better at Charms than you are at Transfiguration, I believe," he said calmly.

"Well," Harry hesitated. "I did learn the Patronus Charm when I was thirteen," he said. "I've never done anything that advanced in Transfiguration class."

He didn't mention his new ability to change into a cat. For one thing, that was supposed to be a secret. For another, he hadn't learned it in class. Technically, he hadn't learned it at all; it had been planted in his brain by Sirius' special guide book.

"Your mother's wand will work better for you than your father's wand," Ollivander said. "You have more in common with her, personality-wise than with your father.

"Oh," Harry was beginning to feel like he was very boring. He opened the wand box and studied his mother's wand. He remembered finding it in the chest his mother had left with Aunt Petunia. The wand had been powering an aversion charm, which had kept his Aunt and Uncle from plundering the chest for it's fine linen and from destroying the mementos inside.

"Willow, is it?" he asked. He picked it up. The wood felt cool to his hand at first, and then it quickly warmed up. Harry fancied that it felt like holding somebody's hand.

"Yes," Ollivander seemed to be waiting.

"What's it got as a core?" Harry asked. Apparently it was the right question.

"A Phoenix's flight feather," Ollivander said. "Rather unusual to get either a flight feather or a tail feather. This wand was meant to fight the Dark Arts."

Harry prevented himself from saying "oh" with great difficulty. "So my mum was opposed to the Dark Arts from the very beginning," he said, pleased he'd come up with an intelligent observation. He ran a finger down the length of it. There were a few places where the wood felt odd. He frowned.

"You won't be able to tell where the breaks were by touch, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said. "The repairs I made are quite seamless."

"I can feel something," Harry said. "Not a rough spot. It's like…" he paused in frustration.

Snuffles barked twice.

Ollivander raised an eyebrow. "Like part of the wand is alive, while part is merely wood?" he asked.

Harry frowned again and wrapped his fingers around the tip of the wand. "No, not quite… Something… Part of this wand isn't _finished_," he said decisively. "It's like only part of this is polished.

Ollivander gave a pleased nod. "Exactly, Mr. Potter," he said. "The original wood has been soaking in the magic from the core since the wand was made. The new wood hasn't been exposed as long. It will take years before the newer wood will achieve saturation. The wand may have a few quirks because of that."

"Not that Harry will have to worry about that," Dumbledore put in. "He won't be using the wand very much."

Harry shook his head. "No, I won't."

"Pity," Ollivander said. "It's an excellent wand. It would improve it greatly to be used on a regular basis." He nodded at Harry. "It would help the new wood catch up to the original wood if it were to be used."

Harry took that as an invitation, so he gave the wand a swish. Instead of shooting sparks, as his own wand did the first time he tried it, his mother's wand produced a stream of bubbles and musical notes.

"Cool," Harry said. He gave the wand another swish. The speed and direction changed the musical notes and he wondered if he could get it to play a song.

"Try a spell, Harry," Dumbledore said. He watched the bubbles with a small smile.

Harry thought it over, and then decided that the first spell that he tried with his mother's wand should be the first spell that he'd learned. "Wingardium Levi-O-sa!" he said, waving the wand at his full teacup and enunciating in the approved Hermione Granger way.

The teacup rattled in its saucer, but didn't move. The wand gave a rather sour note.

Harry frowned. "Wingardium Lev-ee-OH-sa!" and gave the swish-and-flick motion to the wand that he had used quite a few times since first year. This time the wand gave a soft chirrup.

The teacup floated into the air. It was rather a strain on Harry to keep the cup floating, so he let it descend before he dropped it. This did not bode well for his upcoming O.W.L.s.

Snuffles woofed under his breath. Harry felt better; maybe Sirius would tutor him while he was hospitalized.

"As you see," Ollivander said. "It's not that easy to use somebody else's wand. However, and I apologize for the lack of modesty, anybody will do better with one of my wands than with a wand from a lesser maker." He stood and looked at Snuffles. "I daresay even a well-trained dog would be able to utilize one of my wands, should the need arise."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "Indeed," he said.

Before Ollivander could reply, Harry asked: "Mr. Ollivander, why does it sound like that?"

Dumbledore, Ollivander and Snuffles looked at Harry in surprise.

"Why does what sound like what?" Ollivander asked.

Harry blinked at him and wished he had not spoken.

"Harry?" Dumbledore said. "What noise are you hearing?"

Harry frowned. "It's not noise, it's music." He gave Lily's wand another flick. A large, lavender bubble floated from the tip of the wand, and there was a soft hoot. "When I use the wand, it makes music. Something like phoenix song." He was beginning to feel worried. "Can't you hear it?"

Dumbledore shook his head and looked at Ollivander. "I cannot hear anything," Dumbledore said.

"Interesting," Ollivander said. "Most interesting that you should be able to hear that, Mr. Potter. Especially in view of the fact that you can feel the difference between the new wood and the original wood."

"My own wand doesn't sing, and it's got a phoenix feather in it," Harry said.

"No, not many wands will sing like this," Ollivander said. "And fewer wizards can hear it." He nodded. "You may have a career in wand making in your future, Mr. Potter. As I said, you take after your mother in talent, and I was hoping to recruit her."

"My mother could have been a wand maker?" Harry asked, wide eyed.

"Oh, yes," Ollivander assured him. "She had a talent for charms, and a feel for wood. In fact, I helped her make her second wand."

Harry was back to "Oh."

Ollivander stood and made his way to the door. "I think it's time for us to let Mr. Potter think on what's he's learned today, Albus. If you'll show me the way to the front door."

"Certainly," Albus said.

"Good day, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said. He paused on his way out the door before adding. "Mr. Black."

"Woof," Snuffles said.

"I see we have much to talk about," Dumbledore said mildly as he followed Ollivander out the door.

Padfoot walked over to the door and listened intently. After what seemed like hours to Harry, Sirius transformed back into himself. "So, Ollivander knows about me, does he?" he mused. "I wonder how he learned about me."

"Do you think he'll inform the Ministry?" Harry asked nervously.

"I don't think so," Sirius said. "Ollivander is a funny bird. He doesn't think the same way most people do. He rather reminds me of Hagrid that way. "His family was making wands in this area before the Celts arrived. Nobody is quite sure where the Ollivander family came from. There's certainly nothing to disprove the rumor that the Ollivanders are descended from the Fomorians."

"The who?" Harry asked.

"Don't you know your history?" Sirius asked sternly.

Harry blushed. "It's hard to stay awake in History of Magic," he complained.


	6. In the Dark

A Sirius Situation

Chapter 6, formerly Chapter 5: In the Dark

Author: Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, JK Rowling does

Dumbledore was certain that Ollivander would not betray Sirius's secret. Sirius agreed with Dumbledore, citing the fact that the Ollivander family had never been known to cater to either the Ministry or to Dark Wizards. Harry, remembering that Ollivander had once described Voldemort's deeds as 'great', did not feel reassured. His worries tended to ruin his appetite and invade his dreams.

A loud crash jolted Harry out of a particularly nasty nightmare involving being chased through endless corridors and Sirius jumping through a heavily curtained window to his doom. A combination of startled muscles and involuntary magic sent him tumbling from his bed. Leo, the Abyssinian cat, landed on top of the large, black Grim as the monstrous canine bolted from underneath to deal with the intruder. 

The result was a lot more crashing and banging with snarls, caterwauling, flashing hexes and several choice words thrown in for bad measure.

"Oops," a female voice said, sotto voce. "Sorry. Hope I didn't wake you…" The witch stopped in mid-sentence. Harry couldn't blame her; it was a rather silly thing to say, under the circumstances. "Erm… I hope I didn't wake you from a particularly good dream, that is," the witch moved forward. "I mean, I'm sorry..." There was another crash when the speaker bumped into a table that was laden with textbooks and study guides. "Oh, bother," she said. "_Lumos_."

Leo the cat and Padfoot the Grim blinked up at the sudden light.

The lit wand revealed a young woman, with dark hair, fair skin and a heart shaped face. Her dark eyes darted between Leo and Padfoot. Then she looked around the otherwise empty room. "Erm, I thought Harry Potter was in here?" she said with a nervous smile.

Padfoot let out a growl that rattled the potion bottles.

The woman backed up a pace and brought her wand to a defensive position.

Harry concentrated and changed back into his human form before he realized that he shouldn't be showing this trick off to strangers. Padfoot let out another growl, but Harry could see that the dog was looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Erm, hi," Harry said to the young woman.

When the woman regained control of her sagging jaw, she swallowed a few times. "Erm, oh, wotcher, Harry! Here, let me help you up," she said in a rather shaky voice. She held out her hand to Harry.

A roaring, salivating Padfoot was between the two humans before Harry could respond.

The woman leaped back with a shriek, tripped on something that went clattering away, and sat down with a thud. There was another clatter and the woman snapped out a few obscenities. One of the printable words she uttered was "wand." Since the light had bounced away from the woman, Harry deduced that she'd dropped her wand when she had fallen the second time.

This was _not_ a healthy situation for the witch. In the dim light, Harry could see that Padfoot was furious. His muscles flexed and his fur bristled, making the bear sized canine seem large enough to swallow both intruder and Harry. The way the dog's pale eyes blazed convinced Harry that Padfoot was sincerely planning on wolfing down _both_ of them. Padfoot stalked toward the female, showing off his oversized mouth with the nightmarishly oversized teeth.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" Madame Pomfrey huffed. "_Snuffles_, that will be _enough_ of that!" The matron hurried in, followed by the Headmaster. "Miss Tonks, I warned you not to wake Mr. Potter!"

"I didn't mean to!" Miss Tonks said in a plaintive voice that just missed being an annoying wail.

"There, there, Tonks," Dumbledore said. "Accidents can happen to the best of us. Isn't that right, Snuffles? Miss Tonks is an Auror, she's here to protect Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said gently.

Harry couldn't make out Dumbledore's face, but the Headmaster's voice held a note of amusement.

Madam Pomfrey began lighting candles with a few waves of her wand and some muttered words. Her voice held a few textbooks worth of annoyance.

The Grim stopped growling and its tongue lolled out, leading Harry to believe that not all of Pomfrey's mutterings dealt with lighting the ward.

"I'm sorry," Miss Tonks said meekly. She studied Snuffles out of the corner of her eye.

As Madam Pomfrey was lighting the candles and Padfoot was no longer acting like he wanted to devour everyone in sight, Harry could relax and study the intruder more carefully. Her dark hair turned out to be a vivid shade of purple, now that the lights were on. She was around five feet, four inches; with a slender build that made Harry think of a ballerina or an acrobat.

Harry guessed that the witch was in her twenties. There was just something about the witch's unnatural hair color and silver nose ring that indicated to him that she hadn't been out of Hogwarts for very long. Harry also decided that she was probably a Muggle-born because he'd never expected to see a witch wear leather pants and a glittery t-shirt before.

He started to push himself upright when Pomfrey interjected, "Don't move, Potter." To reinforce her order, she muttered: "_Petrificus Spinus_" and Harry's neck and back froze up. He sighed as Pomfrey set him floating in mid-air while she remade the bed.

"You relax, young man," Pomfrey ordered waspishly.

Harry wondered how he was supposed to relax when his spine had been turned into an iron bar. He looked over at Madam Pomfrey to protest, but the expression on her face and Padfoot's body language made him hold his tongue.

He was in Sirius trouble here.

"It was all my fault, Madam Pomfrey," Miss Tonks protested.

"I am quite aware of that," Madam Pomfrey said, giving Miss Tonks a stern look.

Miss Tonks looked taken aback, and then she gave Madam Pomfrey an impudent grin that reminded Harry of someone…

"Confess! You missed me, Matron!" Miss Tonks said cheekily.

"I'm afraid she's on to you, Poppy," Dumbledore said in a light tone.

Madam Pomfrey gave him a stern look. Not that it made any impression on the Headmaster.

"I have to admit, it was very quiet here without you being brought in every other day," Madam Pomfrey was trying to retain her gruff attitude with only partial success. "However, Mr. Potter has managed to take up some of the slack, so I haven't been _too_ lonely. The two of you should get along well."

She shot a stern look over Miss Tonks' shoulder. "My patient needs his sleep, Headmaster."

"My apologies, Poppy, we weren't here to wake him up," Dumbledore said wryly. He looked at the scattered bedpans as if wondering how they had managed to introduce themselves to Miss Tonks' feet. "Hello, Harry. How are you feeling? Ready to go home?"

"I am at home, Headmaster," Harry said politely.

Madam Pomfrey's eyebrows went up, and Snuffles gave a small woof.

"I mean, at Hogwarts, not the Hospital Wing," Harry added.

"I see," Dumbledore said. "Do you feel up to returning to Privet Drive?"

"I'd rather go to the Burrow," Harry said.

"I'm afraid that's not possible at this time," Dumbledore said regretfully. "However, you won't be left alone to deal with your relatives. You will need medical attention for a while longer. Your Aunt and Uncle were given the choice of having someone look in on you on a regular basis or taking you to St. Mungo's." He looked over at the matron. "Poppy, I think that you can relax the Brace Charm now."

"What? Oh, of course," Madam Pomfrey sounded a trifle flustered as she waved her wand at Harry and canceled the spell.

"You forced the Dursleys to think? _That_ must have hurt," Harry said dryly.

Snuffles woofed again and Miss Tonks grinned.

Dumbledore's moustache twitched. "Now, Harry," he reproved. "Be respectful of your relatives."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said. A few minutes later, Harry had to ask, "When you asked them to think, did steam come out of their ears?"

"Harry," warned Dumbledore.

"I expect Uncle Vernon just turned that interesting shade of puce that he gets whenever my name gets mentioned," Harry went on.

Dumbledore was having a difficult time maintain a stern façade.

"Aunt Petunia is a little more discreet than my uncle," Harry went on. "Her mouth tightens until the corners are all white, like this." He clenched his mouth shut until his jaw hurt.

Miss Tonks struggled to keep a straight face. Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes.

"Harry!" barked Dumbledore.

Harry looked up, his face as innocent as a choir boy's, his eyes as wicked as a Marauder's. "Yes, Headmaster?" he said.

"Petunia's mouth is more like…" Dumbledore compressed his lips together until the corners of his mouth turned white.

"Ah, my mistake," Harry said.

"Headmaster, please, this boy needs rest," Madam Pomfrey insisted.

"Ah, yes, sorry, Poppy," Dumbledore said. "Harry, this is Miss Nymphadora Tonks, she'll be one of the nurses looking in on you while you convalesce."

Harry blinked at Miss Tonks. "Pleased to meet you, ah, Miss…?"

"I didn't choose the name," she grumbled at him. "Just call me Tonks."

"Tonks, this is Harry Potter," Dumbledore said.

"I'm pleased to meet you at last, Harry," Tonks said, smiling. "You look just the way I pictured you." Her dark eyes sparkled.

Padfoot let out a tremendous bark, as if trying to get her attention. When she looked at him, he lolled his tongue out in a wolfish grin.

Tonks looked nervously from Padfoot to Harry, and fingered her wand. "Has your dog been fed lately?"

Padfoot made a peculiar grumbling noise in the back of his throat.

"The large, canine guardian is someone you're going to be working with," Dumbledore said before Harry could reply. "Snuffles is very well trained and very reliable."

"Snuffles, is it?" Tonks sniggered.

"Also known as Padfoot," Dumbledore said.

Tonks stiffened. "Padfoot? Wait, that's what we used to call my cousin…"

"Also known as Sirius Black."

Tonks' eyes went wide. "Sirius?"

"Hello, Snidget," Sirius said nervously.

"You… you're…" Tonks eyes began to water. "No one but you has ever called me that, Sirius!"

"Snidget," Sirius couldn't think of anything else to say.

"He's innocent," Harry said fiercely. "He never hurt my parents."

Tonks burst into tears, scaring Harry and Sirius for the second time that night. "I knew you were innocent!" she sobbed. "I _knew_ that you would never hurt the Potters! You… couldn't… Mum was broken hearted… Dad… I mean… the Ministry thought that Mum might have… Oh… my… GOD! What happened to James and Lily? What went wrong? How did you get out of Azkaban?? Where have you BEEN!?"

Then she flung herself into Sirius' arms and sobbed against his shoulder. "You're back! You're back! Mum will be so happy!"


	7. Ron and His Siblings

A Sirius Situation

Chapter 7

Ron and His Siblings

Author: Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, JK Rowling does

The branches of the apple tree creaked in the wind. It was a cool July afternoon, with the sun disappearing periodically behind some fast moving clouds. The day remained dry, however.

Ron sat under one of the apple trees and tried to concentrate on writing something witty and endearing. "Dear Hermione," he sighed and tapped his quill on the parchment, splattering his salutation into oblivion. Forget witty and endearing, right now he'd sell his collection of Chocolate Frogs for the ability to string two coherent sentences together.

"Gah!" he threw his quill at a pair of eyes that were peering from under a lilac bush. "Stupid gnome," he muttered.

He did not understand what was wrong with him. He'd known the girl since they were both eleven. He'd been writing to her every summer since he was twelve. Why was it suddenly so hard to find something to say to her? Maybe he should ask Harry for advice. He sighed; he'd probably have more luck asking Pigwidgeon for help. What Harry didn't know about girls would fill the Encyclopedia Camelot.

Ron hunted around. When he couldn't find another quill, he crumpled his parchment and tossed it at a gnome hole at the foot of one of the apple trees.

The makeshift Quaffle dropped in, and a few minutes later, a gnome poked its head out and glared at him. He'd been out here for hours, ever since breakfast, and he'd made seventeen out of twenty-three goals. "Maybe I should have been a Chaser," he muttered.

Pity Hermione didn't care for Quidditch, and then he'd at least have something to write about, even if it was only the Chudley Cannon's latest defeat.

Not that he thought that talking Quidditch was very romantic. Even he knew that much about women. Unfortunately, knowing what not to write about didn't give him a clue as to what he _should_ write about.

He hated to admit it, but the logical person to ask for advice about girls was Ginny (her being a girl and all.) She wouldn't take the Mickey out of him. Well, not the way the twins would, if he asked them for advice about anything.

He made a face. That still didn't make the prospect of being teased any more pleasant. He shook his head. This was stupid. It wasn't as if he was asking the woman to marry him, or even go to dinner with him.

So… what should he write about? What did Hermione like? Books. Lovely. He tapped his quill against his chin. On the other hand, "books" covered a lot of ground. Whatever subject he picked, there were bound to be a dozen books on the subject. He could even talk about chess; Hermione would probably be interested if he could cite a few books on the subject.

He sighed again. Like he'd ever read any books about chess. Maybe he should ask Hermione for advice… Nah. Him, ask for advice about wizard chess? She wouldn't be fooled. Nobody would be fooled. It wouldn't take Hermione very long to work out what he was up to. Pity he didn't have a clue.

"What are you doing?" Ginny's said softly in his ear.

Ron almost hit the low hanging branches when he jumped and whipped out his wand. "What are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?" he howled when he finished swearing.

"You'd have to have a heart for that, Ron," Ginny said. She aimed a sardonic grin at his wand. "Maybe you should switch to decaf." She brushed back her coppery hair and looked at him with amusement in her eyes.

Her calico cat, Pixie wandered over to sniff at the debris of Ron's attempts at writing something coherent.

Ron squinted at her. "What's that supposed to mean?" he huffed at her.

Ginny shrugged. "I have no idea," she admitted. "It's one of the phrases that I'm supposed to write about for my Muggles Studies essay." She said. "Along with such illuminating comments such as 'Brush and floss.', 'Mind your p's and q's.', 'Do you want fries with that?' and 'It's for you.'"

"Muggles are strange," Ron muttered.

"You suppose Muggles think that we're strange?" Ginny asked. Idly, she picked up a scrap of parchment and tried to read it.

"Harry thinks the wizarding world is full of nutcases," Ron said. He snatched the parchment from her, crumpled it up and threw it at the gnome hole. It bounced off and disappeared under the lilac bush.

The lilac bush chucked it back.

"Can you blame him?" Ginny asked. "The wizarding world alternates between worshipping him and vilifying him," Ginny said. "Every time he turned around, there's somebody trying to turn him into something he's not." She picked up another scrap of parchment that was almost completely black with ink.

"It doesn't bother you?" Ron asked.

"That he thinks some wizards are nutters?" Ginny said. "Why? I think a lot of witches and wizards need some serious therapy."

"Serious _what_?" Ron said, frowning. He picked up a scrap of parchment, but it was covered in doodles, so he turned it into a paper dart and threw it at Ginny.

"Therapy," Ginny said, ducking. "It's another of the phrases on my list to discuss and analyze. Therapy is treatment for mental disorders, and Muggles sometimes use the phrase as an insult, meaning that the person in question isn't exactly sane."

"Oh. Why do you take that class?" Ron asked. "It sounds boring."

"Everything sounds boring to you, except Quidditch, food and chess," Ginny said. She sighed and decided to try to explain her choice of electives. "I want to learn how Muggles live. They're interesting."

She paused for a moment to marshal her thoughts. "Besides, I don't want to be like some of those wizards that we saw at the Tri-Wizard Tournament who can't cope without magic, who can't dress themselves to blend in with Muggles and who can't recognize a pound note from a newspaper clipping."

"I never knew you were such an activist," Ron said.

"I just hate being helpless," Ginny said. "That's why I study so hard."

"I guess that makes sense," Ron said absently. He picked up another scrap of parchment, saw that it was already covered in illegible scrawls, and chucked it into the gnome hole under the apple tree.

Ginny found another scrap of parchment and read from it. "Dear Hermione, blot, blot, blot," she read. She rubbed her upper lip in an effort to hide her amusement.

"Oh, shut it," Ron tried to pull the scrap away from her but Ginny twisted away from him.

"What?" Ginny said, still snickering. "You were doing fine, until your quill threw up on your letter."

"So, what did you say to Harry last time you owled him?" he asked with a trace of malice. He knew that Ginny hadn't borrowed Pigwidgeon or Errol for a couple of days, so he knew that she hadn't had any more luck in deciding what to write.

Ginny winced. "Okay, point taken," she said. "I've run out of things to say. He's heard all about denoming the garden, five or six times. I've told him about the twins' latest pranks. I'm sure he doesn't want to hear any more about O.W.L.s. And I don't want to whine to him about being bored when he's stuck in the Hospital Wing. Like he isn't worse off than we are," she sighed.

"At least he isn't with those horrible Muggles," Ron said.

"Guess that means no Great Harry Rescue this year," Ginny sighed. "Pity, I was so looking forward to sweeping him off his feet."

Ron laughed. "Well, maybe that could be the topic of your next letter," he said. "You can create ways to rescue Harry from durance vile."

Ginny gave a bark of laughter. "Rescue him from Hogwarts? How am I supposed to rescue him? Besides, Sirius is there. I doubt Harry will want to be rescued from his real family."

Ron grabbed the top of her head and shook it. "Oh, please, don't you think he'd want to get out of that stuffy Hospital Wing and get some fresh air and sunshine."

Ginny gave him a sideways look. "You're mocking me," she said, jerking away.

"If you can't take it, don't serve it," Ron said. "Although, the idea of plotting an escape with Harry might at least keep him entertained."

"Hmmm," Ginny mused. "You know you're really not…"

Ron clamped his hand over her mouth. "Don't say it, whatever it was, I'd hate to ruin such a precious moment by throwing you into the pond."

Ginny's eyes filled with laughter and Ron knew he was in trouble. "What are you up to?" he asked.

Ginny pulled away from him. "Me?" she did have a very convincing innocent face.

Ron knew his sister too well to be fooled. "You're the only other one out here, Ginny-girl," he said. "And if you're not up to something, then I'd better search you for Poly-juice Potion."

Ginny grinned. "All I came out here to do was to find out how your letter writing was going," she said. "If Harry doesn't get something, soon, he'll sic Hedwig on us."

"Good point," Ron said.

"And I thought these might come in handy," she pulled a handful of wooden sticks from her pocket.

"Pencils," Ron identified.

"You've seen these before?" Ginny asked, rather surprised.

"I have two friends from the Muggle world," Ron reminded her. "Besides, Dean Thomas showed me the ones he uses for drawing." He plucked one out of Ginny's hand. "His were all different colors, though. Not this boring grey stuff."

"That's pencil lead," Ginny said. "Which isn't really lead, but actually…"

"Graphite, a form of carbon, like charcoal," Ron said loftily. "It leaves a mark, but you can erase it without magic by using a bit of rubber."

"Did Dean tell you all about them?" Ginny asked. "Or is this coming from Hermione?"

"Actually, Justin Finch-Fletchley was telling me about them, back in the Prowlery," Ron said. He squinted at the pencil in his hand. "So, what will this thing do when I try to use it?" he demanded.

Ginny blinked a few times. "What do you mean? It'll leave marks on paper, so you can write to Hermione. If you don't like what you're writing, you will be able to erase your mistakes without using magic. Which means that you won't keep wasting reams of expensive parchment."

Ron looked at her askant. Then he shook his head sadly. "Ginny, Ginny, Ginny," he intoned. "You must think that I am a complete idiot. You didn't get these pencils from Hermione, Harry or even Dad. You haven't been any place where you could have bought, found or even, Merlin forbid, stolen."

He tapped the rubber end of the pencil on a freckle that was between her eyes. "Therefore, these things came from the Twins."

He gazed at her somberly. "You sold me out, you little rat…" he decided he couldn't call her a rat, considering what Peter Pettigrew, AKA Scabbers AKA Wormtail had done. "You little wretch."

He shook his fist at her. "After all the years we defended each other against the Twinly Pranks, you've defected to their side! I hope what they paid you was worth my friendship!" he declared in ringing, really over dramatized tones.

"So, what do these things do?" he said in normal tones.

"I have no idea what you mean," Ginny said stiffly.

"Then, why don't you demonstrate how they work for poor, stupid Ron?" Ron challenged.

Ginny grabbed the pencil out of his hand. "Not if you're going to be like that about it!" she huffed in equally overacted anger. "I'll leave you out here to whine to Hermione as best you can." She stalked off, radiating outrage.

Ron knew that if she'd really been angry, she wouldn't have let him off that easily. He wondered what Fred and George had bribed her with this time.

Ginny stalked into the kitchen and let the door slam for dramatic effect. Then she walked over to the fireplace and tossed in a pinch of Floo powder. "Weasleys Wizarding Weazes," she said.

"Well?" George demanded when her head appeared in their fireplace.

"He's on to me," Ginny reported grimly. "He refused to try the pencils unless I told them what they would do."

"Damn!" said Fred. "I was so sure his preoccupation with the fair Hermione would put him off guard."

"What are we going to do?" George said. "I'd like to know if these things will really force a person to write out his or her life story."

"Didn't they work on you?" Ginny demanded.

"Hard to say," Fred said. "We couldn't tell if it forced us to write down all our deep dark secrets or if we did it on our own."

"We need your help with this," George urged her. "We'll make it worth your while."

Ginny sighed. "I'll think of something," she promised.


	8. Hermione and her Shopping

A Sirius Situation

Chapter 8

Hermione and her Shopping

Author: Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, JK Rowling does

The name Hel's Forge was rather uninviting. However, the village itself was charming. Nestled in a small valley, beside a swiftly running stream, it managed to balance the charm of its ancient cottages and shops with the brisk efficiency of its newer stores and hotels.

On a clear day, the village looked like the setting of a picture postcard. Even on a cold, rainy July day, it was pleasant to wander through. The Sikes drove the teens to The Forge Mall and dropped them off, arranging to meet them again in five hours time.

The boys headed off to a sporting goods shop. (Hermione couldn't help but think of Ron and Harry and their obsession with Quidditch. Ron thought Muggle sports were dull, but Harry would have probably enjoyed the Muggle shop.

Hermione wasn't sure if Harry had played many sports before Hogwarts. She made a mental note to ask him someday.) Belinda and Tanya went bargain hunting. Hermione instructed Belinda to be sure to get a _plain_ gold cross, and to take it to the chapel to have it blessed. If they were right about the priory being haunted, Hermione suspected that the minister would not be at all surprised at such a request.

Hermione turned up the collar of her coat and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her red coat. She'd worn her warmest outfit, but she hadn't packed any really heavy clothes. Her blue jeans and white turtleneck weren't faring well in the rain and wind. She felt her school scarf in one of her pockets and debated putting in on. She refrained for the moment, feeling uneasy about displaying her school colors in a Muggle village.

Her parents had been quite generous with her spending money, though, so she could buy herself a new scarf, and maybe a new coat, if she really needed it. She window shopped as she looked for a bookshop.

The first bookshop Hermione found was a modern one, laden with the new releases, popular paperbacks and all the current bestsellers. She looked in the window, but nothing on display excited her curiosity. There weren't any books that could teach her anything, so she shook her head and kept walking.

There might be some information about the local area in the modern bookshop, but she doubted there'd be much in the way of useful information about the possibly haunted Priory. Even if there was a book or two that had pertinent information, she'd have to find it herself, and she didn't have the time to do that amount of research.

What she needed was a _used_ bookshop, a library, or maybe an antique shop. Preferably something that was operated by a long time resident of the area. Somebody who was familiar with both the local scuttlebutt and the books. Failing that, she'd try the newspaper office.

As she walked, she started thinking about other alternatives, should her first two ideas fail. She needed someplace where the people were familiar with the history of the area and weren't afraid to talk about it.

The local pub might prove informative. At the very least, there might be some old pensioner who wouldn't mind talking about the good old days to a sympathetic listener. She fingered her purse again.

A sympathetic listener who was willing to buy the next round could usually find somebody with an interesting story. The trick there was finding someone who knew the truth about the Priory, and would be willing to educate an outsider on what might possibly be a local scandal. (Happy people didn't often turn into ghosts.)

Her ruminations came to an end when she walked around a corner onto a narrow street whose sign read "Tote Ally," where most of the shops seemed to be empty. There were only two shops that weren't boarded up. One was "Auntie Macasser's Cafe." The other was "Uncle Badger's Used Books and Other Oddments." The word "oddments" always made her think of Professor Dumbledore, so she grinned and went inside.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the scent of old leather, parchment, and ink that only came from really old books. It smelled like heaven to her. Sometimes she thought that she'd like to own a bookshop. She shook her head. Maybe after she retired. There were a lot of careers she'd like to investigate before she settled down to such an introverted occupation.

She opened her eyes and took in the ambience. The shelves of books reaching the ceiling were to be expected. Interspersed among the books were the "oddments." A goat skull, some trophies, a cricket bat, a cricket cage, a butterfly net filled with tennis balls, a white clay pot with some sort of spiky design around the outside, parts of a stained glass window laid out on billiards table like an oversized jigsaw puzzle, a crystal ball perched jauntily on a moose head, Egyptian Canopic jars and a gumball machine filled black and red balls the size of hen's eggs were among the eclectic collection.

"Dumbledore would love this place," she said. It was certainly her idea of a proper bookstore. It had a lot of objects that were designed to stimulate her imagination, and a lot of books created to satisfy her curiosity. Hermione Heaven in a box.

She walked toward the counter looking around as she did. Behind the ancient cash register were a set of large mason jars that held preserved animals, including a pickled toad that was, by Merlin, the exact shade of green as Harry's eyes.

There was also a red ball the size of a football, which was tethered to a stuffed badger with a long, knitted scarf. Hermione's eyes narrowed a bit as she noticed that the scarf had alternating stripes of yellow and black. Then a smile blossomed across her face. This was obviously the right bookshop for her purposes.

"Ah, good afternoon, my flower," an elderly man shuffled from a door behind the counter and made his way towards her. There wasn't much of his dust colored hair, and his pale grey eyes were covered by lenses that had to be thicker than Hermione's thumb. He was dressed in clothes that had gone out of fashioned before World War I, which meant they were cutting edge, as far as the wizarding world was concerned.

There was a smile on his face, but not a particularly friendly one. It was the kind of smirk that a person wears when he thinks he knows something that you're too ignorant to understand.

"Good day, sir," Hermione said politely. She took off her coat and draped it over her arm. She could see into the room behind the counter. She could see the flickering light of a fireplace that was giving off enough heat to counter a blustery winter day, which meant it was overwhelming the rainy July afternoon.

"Please, call me Uncle Badger. Everyone else does. So, how can an old codger like me help such a lovely spring flower?" the proprietor smirked. He took her coat and hung it on a coat tree that Hermione was certain had not been standing next to the counter when she walked in the door.

Hermione smirked back. The old wizard liked to tease his Muggle customers, it seemed. "Thank you, Uncle Badger, I'm looking for some books about the Old Priory," she said.

"Really?" the wizard's eyebrows rose. "And what could possibly interest a sweet blossom such as yourself in such a dull piece of property?"

"My mother's cousins are the new owners," Hermione said. "I'm here on a visit."

"Oh, I'd heard that Old Gerald had managed to unload that white elephant of his," Uncle Badger said happily. "Have you been enjoying your stay? The old priory has got some lovely scenery up there."

"I'd enjoy the scenery more if it would stop raining," Hermione admitted. "There's a lovely library that came with the place, though. It's kept me quite entertained."

"And now you've come to town to entertain yourself," Uncle Badger said, half a question and half a challenge.

"Actually, I came to do some research," Hermione said. She wandered around looking at the titles on the spines of the books. They all seemed very innocuous, but Hermione was sure she saw the letters on a few of them scramble to rearrange themselves. "There have been some strange goings-on and I was wondering if there might be some clues in the Priory's past to explain it."

"Ah, so what do you think of Hel's Forge, my flower?" Uncle Badger acted as if he hadn't heard her. "Not a very pleasant name, is it? Did you expect this to be an unpleasant place?"

Hermione tilted her head and studied him. There was a test here, somewhere, and she was determined to pass. "Hel's Forge," she mused. "The name _is_ rather ominous, isn't it? At least, when you say it out loud. On paper, however, there's only one 'l' in the name."

Uncle Badger smiled. "You think, perhaps, that some careless cartographer dropped a letter?"

"I suspect that your careless cartographer dropped a whole syllable," Hermione said. She looked at the Quaffle, and then at the Hufflepuff scarf. "According to Hogwarts, a History, Helga Hufflepuff was a skilled artisan in metals as well as cloth."

Uncle Badger gave a bark of laughter. "A Hogwarts student who actually reads history books," he said in pleased tones. "If I were a gambling man, I'd bet that you were sorted into Ravenclaw."

Hermione casually strolled over to her coat and pulled her scarlet and gold scarf out of the pocket as she spoke. She wrapped in around her shoulders and shot Uncle Badger a challenging look.

"Well, well, it's just as well that I'm not a gambler," Uncle Badger said with a grin. "My beautiful blossom is a _dandelion_."

"That means _Tooth_ of the Lion, you know" Hermione said in cautioning tones.

"You don't look to be of age yet, my lioness," Uncle Badger said.

Hermione gave him a Fred-and-George grin. "That doesn't mean that provoking is me risk-free," she said. "Magic is a useful too, but not the only one in my repertoire. We Muggles have our own ways getting things done. Sometimes all you need is some cleverness and a bit of… tooth." She grinned wider.

Uncle Badger laughed and he held his hands up in surrender. "Point taken. I am Jed Ione, Hufflepuff, class of '59, at your service." He seemed a lot friendlier now that he had learned that they were from the same world.

Hermione smiled as she held out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger, Gryffindor, class of '97." She tilted her head at him. "My friends call me Hermione."

Uncle Badger's eyes went wide. "Well, I've never had a celebrity in my humble shop before! I'm certainly glad you did not take offense at my over familiarity, Miss Granger." He gave her hand a firm shake.

Hermione's eyebrows went up and she coughed to hide a bark of laughter. "I'm no celebrity," she said, shaking her head with denial. "I'm surprised you've heard of me."

"I have heard a lot of things," Uncle Badger said with a touch of pride. "I used to be a journalist, and I daresay that I'm better informed than most of the people who currently besmirch the honor of that formerly noble profession."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Hermione said, thinking of the nasty reports that Rita Skeeter had published back in her fourth year.

"You're one of the companions of The Boy Who Lived, are you not?" Uncle Badger continued.

"I'm one of Harry's friends, yes," Hermione said.

"Then a mere malicious spirit shouldn't bother _you_ very much," Uncle Badger teased.

"It's not bothering _me _at all. It's bothering my cousin."

"Your cousin? I thought you were Muggle born?"

Hermione frowned. "I know. However, I suspect that my cousin may be a Squib. She never got a Hogwarts letter, so she can't be a witch. However, she is seeing this thing."

"The rest of her family?"

Hermione shook her head. "No one except Belinda has seen it. She's scared, too. She thinks it might attempt to… to ravish her," Hermione said with a wince. She hated the stilted way that had come out, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to say 'rape.'

Uncle Badger tilted his head. "I've never heard of poltergeists doing anything like that," he said. "However, she does have a nasty sense of humor."

"She?" Hermione asked. "According to my cousin, it was definitely a 'he' who was making gestures at her in the mirror."

Uncle Badger frowned and pulled at his lower lip. "Then perhaps we aren't speaking about the same spirit," he said doubtfully. "Of course, with a poltergeist, she could have just been trying to scare your cousin." He plucked a small, brown book from a shelf behind him, apparently without even looking at the title.

"And doing a good job of it," Hermione said. "Just hearing about the pranks was enough to alarm me, and I can defend myself."

Uncle Badger's eyes narrowed. "If this _isn't_ a mere poltergeist, your cousin could be in considerable danger. Some spirits can get more aggressive over time. It might be best to contain this one, if we can."

"That's what I'm here for," Hermione said. She looked around and noticed that the titles of several of the books had gone from being bland titles concerning Scottish geography, household hits and local wildlife to being books about wizarding geography, household charms and magical beasts. She began browsing for something on aggressive spirits.

Uncle Badger replaced the brown book, and then pulled a large, thin red book from under a cage of a stuffed parrot. "There must be something here that will help."

Hermione suppressed memories of Monty Python's Flying Circus with some difficulty. "Do you have any information about why the Priory might be haunted?" she suggested. "That might be a good place to start." She started to reach for a book titled Snapdragons for Fun, Profit and Protection, and then she remembered The Monster Book of Monsters and pulled her hand back. She thought the book might have sighed, but she didn't examine it closer to find out for certain.

"Oh, I have several books on _that_ subject," Uncle Badger said. He put the red book on the shelf next to the brown book. Then he moved a couple of bookcases farther into the back of the shop and pulled out a large grey book with a title that Hermione could read: Who Was Who and What Was _That_

"However, they will do you no good," he said. "What you speak of is definitely not a ghost." He made a wry face. "In fact, the ghosts that used to haunt the Priory have moved on. Gerald and I never understood why. Now, I suspect your hostile spirit persuaded them to leave."

"That can't be good news," Hermione said. "The Bloody Baron can keep Peeves in line, but he can't rid the castle of him. Whatever's there must be very powerful."

"Ah, yes. Interesting observation," Uncle Badger said. "I remember Peeves. However, I think if it was powerful, then Gerald would have noticed… he was in Slytherin, by the way. I think this particular spirit is more like a poltergeist than a ghost, but what could it be? How did it behave?" He gave her a stern look. "Other than 'badly', that is."

"I don't make facetious replies to serious questions," Hermione murmured. "That's Ron's job."

Uncle Badger raised an eyebrow.

"Ron Weasley," she clarified. "If you've heard of me, then you must have heard of him."

"Ah, yes," Uncle Badger said. "I have heard of the Weasley family. Quite a noble family, that."

"So they are," Hermione agreed.

"So, tell me about your malicious spirit," Uncle Badger prompted.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Let's see, it has caused a lot of problems around the priory, but nothing that couldn't be explained away." She made a wry face. "Even I didn't add up the evidence until Belinda asked me for help. However, it has used my cousin's curling wand, her hair dryer, and her mirror to harass her."

She leaned against the counter and tapped her fingers on the dusty surface. She thought over what Belinda had told her while Uncle Badger flipped through a few books. "It _may_ have affected her radio, but the problems with the radio aren't as overtly hostile as the attacks through the other items."

"Mm-hmmm," Uncle Badger said. He exchanged the black book for a shiny yellow and black book whose title looked suspiciously like Evil Spirits for Dummies. Hermione couldn't swear to that, however, because the yellow and black book was quickly replaced with a modern looking blue paperback.

"Oh, yes, she said that she was attacked by her blanket early this morning," Hermione added.

"Ah, here's something in Modern Manifestations," he said, leafing through the book with a satisfied smile. He stopped suddenly and looked startled. "Maybe not," he said as he put the book away.

"What?" Hermione questioned.

"Your spirit _was_ sounding like a gremlin, they are known to be partial to modern Muggle gadgets," he said. "Now I'm not so sure."

Hermione nodded. "That would make sense," she said. "So, why are you ruling out a gremlin?"

"But that doesn't explain the episode with the blanket," Uncle Badger said. "What exactly happened?"

Hermione related Belinda's tale about being attacked by the blanket.

"Blankets don't fall under the category of modern Muggle gadgets," Uncle Badger said. "Unless there's something special about that blanket that you haven't told me about."

Hermione looked at him with a frown as she went over every detail of the attack in her mind. Then she did think of something 'special' about the blanket.

"We have electric blankets," she explained. "I don't use mine, but Belinda probably does. They aren't really a good idea, until they get the generator to stop acting up."

She stopped speaking and got an odd look on her face. "Maybe the only thing wrong with that generator is the gremlin."

Uncle Badger was looking at her like she'd started speaking Parseltongue. "A what? An _electric_ blanket?" he asked in shocked tones. "How can you warm yourself with electricity? Isn't that stuff dangerous?"

Hermione managed to keep from staring. She was surprised, sometimes, at how ignorant wizards were about the Muggle world. She would have thought that Uncle Badger, living among Muggles as he did, would have been savvier about Muggle life. Of course, he did live in the older part of town; he probably wasn't the only one who didn't have electricity.

"Electricity is no more dangerous than magic," Hermione said. "You just have to handle it with respect."

"Oh," Uncle Badger said. "How do these blankets work?"

"Well, electricity flows through wires, copper wires being the most common," Hermione said earnestly. "When it moves through the wires, it causes friction, like when you rub your hands together. The friction causes heat. In light bulb filaments, the heat creates light."

Uncle Badger rubbed his hands together. "That sounds simple the way you explain it, yet you can use that…" he paused to pronounce the word carefully "_e-lek-tris-it-ee_ to warm your beds," he shook his head, and then stopped rubbing his hands together as if he were embarrassed. "Amazing."

"We Muggles are cleverer than the wizarding world gives us credit for," Hermione said darkly.

"Still think of yourself as a Muggle?" Uncle Badger asked.

"I am Muggle-born," Hermione said. "It's just that my repertoire includes, but is not limited to, magic."

Uncle Badger grinned. "I'll have to watch my tongue around my Muggle customers, then. I'd hate to have the likes of you get angry with me."

"You should always be polite to your customers," Hermione said primly. "It's good business sense to stay on your customers good side." She straightened up and noticed, with some dismay, that her blouse was now grimy.

"Allow me," Uncle Badger said. "_Scourgify_!"

"Thank you," Hermione said.

"Magic does have its uses," Uncle Badger said smugly.

"Of course," Hermione said. "Except when it doesn't work."


	9. Hermione and her Research

A Sirius Situation

Chapter 9

Hermione and her Allies

Hermione and her Research

Author: Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, JK Rowling does

Uncle Badger sniggered. Then he became more serious. "So, this hostile spirit of yours is looking a lot like a gremlin," he said. "Nasty bug… blighters. Came in from the Continent after that fracas with You-Know-Who."

Hermione was surprised. "I thought they came in around the nineteen forties, after the war the Muggles call World War II," she said. "I didn't know Vold…"

"DON'T SAY THAT NAME!" snapped Uncle Badger. "You don't want to attract his attention, do you?" He sighed. "Wait, you're friends with the Boy-Who-Lived. You probably aren't scared of saying the name of He Who Must Not Be Named."

Hermione blinked. "Wait, I'm confused. If you didn't mean… Well, the Dark Lord whom Harry defeated when he was a baby… Well, actually Harry's defeated him several times now. Erm, ah, I'm afraid that I don't know which You-Know-Who we're talking about."

Uncle Badger frowned. "Oh, sorry, I meant the You-Know-Who before the current You-Know-Who… Ah, Circe's pigs!" he barked and threw his hands up. "You do have a point, my dandelion. All these ding-dang Dark Lords get confusing when you don't call them by name." He sighed. "The one Little Albie Dumbledore defeated, back in the forties."

"Little? Ah, right. As I thought, gremlins immigrated into England around the time of Muggle's World War II," Hermione said. Then she pulled on her lower lip thoughtfully. "Hitler was quite a believer in the supernatural. I wonder if he and Grindelwald…"

"DON'T SAY THAT NAME NEITHER!"

"Oh, for pity's sake, the wizard's been safely dead for half a century now!" Hermione said impatiently.

He ran his hands through what was left of his hair. "_Gryffindors_!" muttered Uncle Badger. "What makes you so sure he's dead? Never heard that Dumbledore killed him, only defeated him."

Hermione opened her mouth, and then shut it. She was embarrassed to admit that she hadn't studied all the details of this important wizarding battle. She really didn't like reading about violence.

"And even if he's dead, that don't mean he's safe! Some wizards get even more dangerous after they've been dead awhile," Uncle Badger went on. "Hasn't your reading included things like Revenants?"

Considering that she lived in a haunted castle for ten months of the year and that she was here about a malicious spirit, she really didn't have room to argue about people coming back from the dead. "Right, then, shall we stick to the topic?"

Uncle Badger took a deep breath. "Right, good, then," he stopped, looked around the shop. "What were we talking about?"

"Gremlins," Hermione reminded him. "Any suggestions?"

"Ah, yes, right," Uncle Badger said, looking a bit flustered. "I have several items that might, I mean, that will contain a restless spirit of the gremlin kind, Miss Lion." He began to hunt around, muttering to himself. "You can trap said obstreperous spirit… I think… No, not that, maybe…"

He stuck his head into the wall. "No, don't think that'll do." He pulled his head out, ignoring the shedding puffskein that was now sitting on top of it. "Now where did I put that…?" He reached into a goldfish bowl, and his hand turned bright red. Then he pulled out something that had not been visible to Hermione through the glass. "Ah, yes," he was holding a brown book. "Here it is. Should have looked there first."

Hermione accepted the book, and then realized it was actually a wooden box carved to look like a book. She studied it from several angles and had to admit it was perfect. Nobody who knew her would _ever_ question her carrying a book about.

"Holly and rowan," Uncle Badger said proudly. (Hermione was reminded of Ollivander the wand maker.) "It was made by the father of the current proprietor of Ollivander's Fine Wands." (Hermione was not surprised.) "It'll hold anything short of a Dementor," Uncle Badger added. "You might even be able to hold one of those, if you have a strong enough will."

He studied her carefully. "Now all you need is the ahem spirit to use it, my lioness."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the pun. "It doesn't take much courage to trap a gremlin," Hermione lectured. "According to Dr. Egon Spengler's Essences of Apparitions, Specters, and Phantoms, gremlins are not very powerful, nor are they very focused. They are easily distracted and even a first year should be able to fend off an attack." She smiled wryly. "I actually learned how to block a gremlin attack from Professor Quirrell."

"Knowing and doing are not the same thing," Uncle Badger said. "You can't use a containment charm, or even a shielding charm while you're away from Hogwarts, you're underage."

Hermione squinted at him. "I am aware of the restrictions on use of underage magic," she said. "I also know that using magic in self-defense is quite legal," she continued.

"You need to read more on the subject, my dandelion," Uncle Badger warned. "I recommend Laws That Were Passed Solely to Get You into Trouble, by Ima Frayed.

Hermione frowned in confusion. "But I'm positive that A Muggle's Guide to Wizarding Law by Peregrinus Mason said that underage wizards were permitted to use magic in case of exceptional needs, such as self-defense!"

Uncle Badger shook his head. "That's true enough, but, as you just pointed out, Gremlins _aren't_ very powerful. The Ministry doesn't consider them dangerous enough to require the use of underage magic, except in extreme circumstances."

He picked up a magnifying glass from a shelf and began polishing it. "I remember one case, back in the fifties. One poor Muggle-born witch, Yvonne? Yvette? De Carlo, had problems with a gremlin. The Ministry ruled that she was not in any serious danger, and that using spells against it broke the statute of secrecy. They expelled her, and Obliviated her."

"_Obliviated_ her!?" Hermione exclaimed.

"They said that she threatened to expose the wizarding world," Uncle Badger put the magnifying glass down. "It was an ugly business. If you use magic, you will have to prove _beyond question_ that your life was in danger," he sighed. "Unfortunately, that would put you at the mercy of the political process. There is any number of wizards who would seize any chance to get a Muggle-born student expelled."

"Especially the Malfoys and their cronies," Hermione said. She paced around the room. "I can't use magic," she said. "However, I shouldn't need magic." She straightened up. "I can handle this on my own, without magic. I'm sure I can."

"Maybe I could…" Uncle Badger paused, and then shook his head. "I can't think of any reason for me to visit you at the Priory. At least, no reason that wouldn't look suspicious. I don't generally deliver books."

"And we can't have people wondering why you're interested in me," Hermione said. She looked at a jar of pickled something-or-other, and then moved away when she realized that it was looking back. "They might think something… improper… was going on."

Uncle Badger gave a snort. "I'm a bit old for that sort of thing, my flower."

"Then stop calling me 'your flower,'" Hermione suggested dryly.

Uncle Badger grinned at her, and then he grew serious. "I _can_ let you use my fire to call the Weasleys, if you like, Hermione."

Hermione wouldn't have minded seeing the Weasleys at all. However, the thought of the twins, or Ron, or even Ginny in the same room as Bob and Geordie made her quail. There were limits to even a Gryffindor's courage. "Thanks, I appreciate your concern, but I can handle this on my own," she repeated.

"I'd feel better if you had a backup plan," Uncle Badger insisted. "Dealing with spirits can be a tricky business."

She chewed the inside of her cheek for a minute. "Good point,"

There was no point in taking foolish risks. Hermione had to admit that a visit from the Weasleys was the lesser of two dangers. Gremlins weren't very powerful, but anybody could get lucky. Even an evil spirit.

"This way," Uncle Badger said. He ushered her to the back of the shop, where flames were dancing merrily in a fireplace that looked alarmingly like a dragon's mouth.

"You have a Norwegian Ridgeback in your shop," Hermione observed, once she regained the use of her voice.

"Like it?" Uncle Badger asked.

"Hagrid would love it," Hermione said.

"By strange coincidence, that's exactly who helped me build it," Uncle Badger said in delight.

He held out a pewter snuffbox filled with Floo powder.

"Thanks," Hermione said. She gave the box an ironic look, and then took a pinch of powder.

"The Burrow," she shouted, sticking her head into the dragon's jaws.

The swooping sensation made her feel glad that her lunch was firmly settled. Then the aged walls and mismatched furniture of The Burrow came into sight and she forgot all about her motion sickness.

"Hello?" she bellowed into the room

"Hermione?" Molly Weasley Bustled into the kitchen. "Oh, my, what a pleasant surprise!" She bellowed out the open window. "Ron! Ginny! Hermione's in the fireplace!"

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said as Ron and Ginny stampeded into the room. "But I need some help from an adult wizard… or witch," she added hastily when she caught sight of Ginny's ironic expression.

"Of course, my dear," Mrs. Weasley said, startled.

"I thought getting into trouble was Harry's job," Ron said with a smirk.

"I'm not in trouble," Hermione said with great dignity. "I'm trying to avoid it. The building that my cousins bought has a Gremlin in it, and we need to get rid of it."

"A Gremlin?" Ginny snickered. "You need help with a _gremlin_? You don't even need to use magic! Just _kick_ it a few times."

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed in disapproval.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"You should know better!" Mrs. Weasley scolded. "Gremlins are not garden gnomes! They can be very nasty when they get cornered."

"Just like any rat," Ron murmured. He brightened. "Hey, maybe Ginny and I could give you a hand?"

"Absolutely, not!" Mrs. Weasley said, aghast. "I won't have you running around…" she hesitated.

"Helga's Forge," Hermione supplied. "Well, the Muggles call it Hel's Forge. I'm assuming that wizards call it by its old name."

"It depends on the wizard," Mrs. Weasley said. "I know the village that you mean. There's a goodly wizarding population in the area." She blinked and her hand fluttered to her throat. "Oh, how silly of me, you must have discovered that for yourself, or you wouldn't have access to a wizarding fire."

"The owner of the bookshop is a wizard," Hermione said. "Jed Ione, Hufflepuff, class of '59."

"A bookshop," Ron said with a grin. "Trust you to find the only wizarding bookshop in a town full of Muggles."

Hermione rolled her eyes, even though she was glad to see Ron. "Honestly, Ron," she said. "You'd have found the shop first, though," she added. "It's got loads of Quidditch equipment."

"Wicked," Ron said. He turned to his mother. "Can I Floo over there and look around Helga's Forge?"

"Please?" Ginny added. "Can we at least go to the bookshop for a bit?" She decided to play the Harry card. "We can buy Harry's birthday present while we're there."

"Would Mr. Ione mind?" Mrs. Weasley asked worriedly. She hated to say 'no' when she knew her children had been feeling cooped up.

"I don't think so," Hermione asked.

She pulled her head out and asked.

"Excuse me," Uncle Badger said. He stuck his head into the fireplace to speak to Mrs. Weasley.

"They'd be no bother," he said. "I'll send them directly back."

"I'll buy them a book," Hermione promised, or maybe threatened, when she stuck her head back into the fire.

"Excellent, I'll Floo Charlie and tell him to meet you at the bookshop," Mrs. Weasley said.


	10. Hermione and her Allies

A Sirius Situation

Chapter 10

Hermione and her Allies

Author: Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, JK Rowling does

The Weasley siblings were enchanted with the bookshop. Ron wasn't much impressed with the books, but he took a shine to the oddments. The Muggle sporting equipment intrigued him. And he began throwing questions at Hermione and Uncle Badger about the cricket bats, footballs, hockey sticks and basketball hoops.

Ginny liked everything, including Uncle Badger. She competed with her brother for answers about the Muggle goods, such as the flashlights, the radios, office equipment and the battery operated toys. "Dad would love this stuff," she said. "We'll have to buy his Christmas present here."

"Excellent idea," Ron said. He rubbed his hands together and began looking around.

"I'll be happy to sell you children something for your father," Uncle Badger said with delight. He turned to Hermione. "And what can I sell _you_ today, my lioness? I have some nice dragon skin gloves." He looked around. "They're around here somewhere," he muttered.

Hermione opened her mouth to decline the offer, and then had second thoughts. The gloves would actually come in handy. "I'll take a pair, if you have some that will fit me," she said. "If memory serves, gremlin bites can get infected very easily."

"That they do," Uncle Badger said. "Another thing you might find helpful is some Spirit Gum."

"What?" Hermione said. She blinked at Uncle Badger, suspecting that he was making a joke. Then she remembered that wizards had different meaning for some words. "Two people separated by a common language," she said. The spirit in wizarding spirit gum might have something to do with actual apparitions.

"Excuse me?" It was Uncle Badgers turn to be startled.

"I was just remembering something someone once said about America and England," Hermione murmured. "The same seems to apply to wizards and Muggles. In the Muggle world, spirit gum is a type of adhesive that Muggle actors use to keep their wigs and false beards on."

"Ah," Uncle Badger said in enlightened tones.

Ginny added, "In the wizarding world, Spirit Gum is used to temporarily detain, erm, beings of the ectoplasm persuasion."

Ron slapped the back of her head. "Spirits," he corrected.

Ginny slugged his arm. "It seemed a bit redundant to put it that way," she said defensively.

Hermione laughed. "Will the Spirit Gum actually work?" she asked.

"It depends a lot on the spirit," Uncle Badger said. "However, I have some of Professor Wicket's extra refined Spirit Gum. It's guaranteed to hinder even the most powerful ghosties, poltergeists, gremlins, hobyahs and even cipenapers."

"Guaranteed or what?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"Or your next-of-kin gets double your money back," Uncle Badger said gravely.

They stared at each other for a few minutes, and then Uncle Badger was forced to look away to attempt to hide his grin.

The Weasleys laughed.

"That's so reassuring," Hermione said ironically.

"There's an exception in the case of cipenapers," Uncle Badger added brightly. "If it doesn't work on them, then Professor Wicket will send you a chess set."

"A _chess set_?" Hermione's voice went up a notch.

"Of course," Uncle Badger shook his head. "I would have thought that a well read young witch such as yourself would know about cipenapers."

"Don't tell me that you've never read about cipenapers!" Ginny said in appalled tones.

"They're very fond of chess," Ron said somberly.

"I've never heard of them," Hermione said, wondering if she'd just forgotten something. "Why are they dangerous? Playing chess doesn't seem to warrant classifying them as dangerous spirits."

"Well, they're classified as spirits because they can pass through water the way ghosties can pass through walls," Uncle Badger explained.

"They like to grab witches and force them to work as drudges," Ron said.

"Without magic!" Ginny added.

"If you run afoul of them, you must not try magic on them," Uncle Badger said gravely. "Any spell you try to cast will simply rebound on you."

"You're only chance is to challenge them to some sort of contest," Ginny said. "But that's not much of a chance." She shook her head. "Besides, they don't always accept."

"They will usually go for the chess challenge, though," Ron said. "They love chess more than anything… more than food, more than gold, even more than hand-washed bedding!"

Hermione looked from one speaker to the other, wondering if she was the butt of some wizarding joke. They looked very serious (which in the Weasleys' case made her highly suspicious.)

"More than hand-washed bedding?" she repeated.

Ginny and Uncle Badger nodded. "Absolutely," Uncle Badger affirmed.

"That's why they kidnap human women," Ginny asserted. "They can't get their bedding clean enough."

"And if you don't get them clean, then…" Ron drew his thumb across his throat. "They're awfully fond of girl meat."

"Ewww!" Ginny said. She slugged Ron in the arm three times.

"Ow!" Ron said. He grabbed at her hand, but missed and Ginny hit him a fourth time.

"Don't get graphic," Ginny said. She easily evaded his slap. "Behave yourself of Mum will have you cleaning The Burrow without magic!"

Ron subsided with a grumble.

"What do these things look like?" Hermione asked, trying to put an end to the sibling slug fest.

"They're about three feet high," Ginny said, holding her hand approximately a meter off the ground. "They're covered with blue or green scales."

"Sort of like merfolk," Ron added. "But not nearly as nice."

"Nasty teeth," Uncle Badger added. "Worse than gremlins."

"No claws, though. They're fingers are covered with suckers, like the giant squid," Ron said.

"They're tricky," Ginny said dramatically. "I hear that they lure unwary travelers into their snares with a variety of ruses, like leaving gold coins lying in the road or by imitating the cry of a baby."

"How do you fight them?" Hermione asked.

"You can't," Uncle Badger said. "Like I said, they'll just throw back any spell you throw at them."

"You can't hurt them with physical weapons, either," Ron said. "They're like rubber. Anything you hit them with just bounces off."

"Does anything hurt them?" Hermione asked nervously.

"Well, biting does," Uncle Badger informed her. "But I've read that they taste terrible."

"They're scared of big dogs," Ginny said. She paused and rubbed the back of her head. "Come to think of it, so am I."

"I hope I'm with Snuffles if I ever meet any!" Hermione said fervently.

The other three were obviously fighting back smiles by then.

"But you can beat them if you challenge them to a chess game?" Hermione asked uncertainly. The expressions on the other three's faces had her almost convinced that they were pulling her leg. However, their demeanor, combined with the atmosphere of the shop, was giving her the willies.

"Well, maybe," Ron said. "We can't be absolutely positive, because nobody's ever actually won against them."

"They play three games," Uncle Badger said. "The winner of each game gets his choice of a prize or forfeit from the loser."

"They lose the first two games," Ron said. "Then…"

"They win the third game," Hermione said, remembering this from some of her books on folklore. The chess motif was actually fairly common in Celtic folklore, and her suspicions were rapidly becoming certainties.

"And then they have you," Ron said in sepulcher tones.

"So, nobody's ever escaped from these cipenapers?" Hermione asked.

"Nobody," Ginny said gravely.

The two wizards nodded in agreement.

Hermione crossed her arms and frowned. "If nobody's ever escaped them, then how do you know so much about them?" She asked sardonically. She tapped her foot and looked at one too solemn to be believed face to another.

The others broke into broad grins.

"Magic!" Uncle Badger said with a twinkle in his eye.

"The inner eye," Ron pronounced in misty tones that were eerily reminiscent of Madam Trelawney.

"Plus, the latest edition of The Quibbler!" Ginny pulled a copy of the magazine out from where she'd spotted it on Uncle Badger's counter.

The magazine had a lurid cover that seemed to be covered with glowing red eyes and dripping fangs. The cover captions read: "Who let the Crups Out?", "Sirius Black: Cereal Murderer or Does He Favor Toast?" and "Minister of Magic Denies Return of You-Know-Who and Claims that The-Boy-Who-Lived Actually Died Seven Years Ago."

"Lovely," Hermione said. She flipped through the magazine and found the article on cipenapers right after the article that claimed Sirius Black was actually a singer named "Stubby Boardman."

"I can't believe that anybody would publish this rubbish!" Hermione exclaimed. "Is the editor serious?"

"The editor is one Apollo Lovegood," Ron said. "He's nice enough, but he's got these weird ideas. He once told me that Muggles could revive their favorite dead musicians like this King Elvis, and that they put rockets underground." He shook his head. "Rockets are no good underground, even I know that!"

Before Hermione could enlighten him on the subject of underground missile silos, Ginny spoke up. "They're our closest wizarding neighbors, besides Diggorys," she said. "Luna's in my year, but she's in Ravenclaw." She frowned, for some reason she felt she'd just heard that sentence. Then she went on. "Luna's pretty dotty, but she was one of the few people who was willing to be friends with me after all the trouble I got into during my first year."

"The first year of Hogwarts is a difficult adjustment," Uncle Badger said kindly. "I got into quite a few fights, myself."

Without even exchanging looks, the three teens decided not to fill Uncle Badger in on the Basilisk and the Chamber of Secrets.

"Well, the magazine may have some useful information," Hermione said, a trifle doubtfully.

"Ah, you're a good sport, my little dandelion," Uncle Badger said.

Ron and Ginny almost choked when they heard one of Uncle Badger's nicknames for Hermione.

"I can give you the past year's worth of The Quibbler and Witch Weekly, just so you can learn all there is to know about the inner workings of a wizard's mind," Uncle Badger said.

"There are all sorts of useful spells in those magazines," Ginny said. "I learned the Bat-Bogey Hex from the Quibbler."

"I never know when you wizards are joking," Hermione complained. "You're as bad as the Weasleys, Uncle Badger."

"Why, thank you," Uncle Badger said with a small bow.

"That wasn't exactly meant as a compliment," Hermione muttered.

Ron and Ginny grinned wickedly.

"We're probably related, somehow," Ron said, gesturing between Uncle Badger, Ginny and himself. "Most wizards are."

"Don't tell Harry, but I understand that the Blacks and the Malfoys are cousins," Ginny added.

Hermione shuddered. "And I used to think that my cousins were bad eggs," she said. "Compared to the Malfoys, or the Dursleys, they're downright paragons."

She looked around the shop. "My mother wants me to be on better terms with them," she added. "I think I'll be visiting them at least once a year from now on."

Uncle Badger grinned. "Bring your friends, too," he said, nodding to the Weasleys. "They ought to liven up this old town."

"Suits me," Ron said. He wandered over to a glass case that Hermione had somehow overlooked. It was filled with gleaming swords and daggers.

"Don't even think about it," Ginny warned. "Mum will skin you alive if you try to take a sword through the Floo network."

Ron sighed.

"I can arrange…" Uncle Badger started.

Ginny shook her head at him, guessing he was going to offer to arrange shipment. She knew that her mother would not want a sword in the house.

Uncle Badger correctly interpreted her gesture and changed his comment in mid-breath. "… For a special book signing, if I know when you're coming." He liked these kids.

Besides, he'd give his left arm, what remained of his hair and half his storeroom to meet The Boy Who Lived. However, he couldn't say that; he didn't want the Gryffindors to think he was a celebrity hound.

Ron rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything.

Ginny refrained from kicking him with great difficulty.

"You wouldn't invite Gilderoy Lockhart, I hope," Hermione said with a shudder.

"Last I heard Lockhart was still in St. Mungo's," Uncle Badger said. "I was thinking more along the lines of Kennilworthy Whisp."

Ron perked up at that.

It was Ginny's turn to roll her eyes.

Hermione had to think for a few minutes before she placed the name. "Author of Quidditch Through the Ages," she said after a few minutes. "Harry likes that book."

"So do I," Ron murmured. "Whisp's written a lot of good books."

Hermione shrugged. "Come to think of it, Harry would like just about any book on Quidditch." She made a face and added to Uncle Badger, "Of course, the only time Ron and Harry like to read is when they should be working on Potions essays."

"As opposed to you, who only likes to read when you are conscious," Ron said.

Ginny did kick him for that.

"What? It's _true_," Ron protested.

Hermione giggled. "He's got a point," she said, nodding sagely. "Although I am working on a method that will allow me to read while I'm asleep."

Ginny restrained herself from kicking Hermione with some difficulty.

"Kennilworthy is quite an entertaining speaker, and I'm sure those friends of yours would enjoy meeting him," he said.

"Do you think Mr. Whisp come?" Hermione said. That sounded rude to her, as if she thought Uncle Badger wasn't important enough to rate a visit from Mr. Whisp, so she hastily amended her statement, "I mean, he's probably very busy."

Uncle Badger laughed. "Yes, well, it couldn't be when the Wanderers are playing. However, he's quite gracious about book signings, and my shop _does_ have a good reputation in the wizarding world," he winked at her. "On top of that, if I told him that The Boy Who Lived was coming, do you think he'd say 'No'?"

The three teens exchanged looks.

"I'd think he'd be as keen to meet Harry as Harry is to meet him," Ginny said.

"Speaking of Harry," Hermione said. "His birthday is coming up. I need something special for him."

Ginny's eyes went wide and she whirled around, taking in the shop. "Good idea, I bet we could get something really wicked for him, here."


	11. Hermione and Impulse Buying

A Sirius Situation

Chapter 11

Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Impulse Buying

Author: Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, JK Rowling does

"You're going to buy a present for the Boy Who Lived? From my shop?" Uncle Badger looked like somebody had packaged his birthday up with Christmas, and then had delivered them both early. "Oh, my stars and garters, what have I got that's worthy…" he began wandering around his shop, picking up and discarding items.

"Tell, me, Miss Lion, is Mr. Potter much of a reader?"

"Well, he reads, of course," Hermione said. "I know he does own books besides his school texts."

"But not like us, eh?" Uncle Badger said.

"Not many people I know read like me," Hermione said.

"Ah, you should associate with bookshop owners more, my lion," Uncle Badger said. "Bookselling isn't an occupation for people who want to become rich and powerful." He picked up a jar of something that snarled at him. "No, I don't think so," he said. "You say he likes Quidditch through the Ages. Does he play?"

"Oh, yes," Ron said proudly. "Youngest Seeker at Hogwarts in over a century."

Uncle Badger nodded as he continued his search. "Popular with the witches, is he?"

"Erm, actually," Ginny hesitated. She knew that other witches were interested in him, but she wasn't sure how to answer this.

"He's a bit on the shy side," Hermione said.

"Really?" Uncle Badger looked over at her in surprise.

"He's not used to crowds," Hermione said. "He grew up in seclusion, mostly." Which was the polite way of putting it, she thought.

Uncle Badger nodded. "I can see why they'd want him kept out of harm's way," he said. "An adventurous lad like that, especially one with powerful enemies, is bound to attract trouble." He puttered off to a corner in search of the Perfect Potter Present.

Ron quirked his eyebrow at Hermione.

"What?" she demanded.

"Harry won't thank you for saying that he's 'shy,'" Ron replied.

"Well, he is," Hermione said defensively.

"But he won't like that bandied about," Ginny said. She rolled her eyes at Ron. "Boys want to be known for being manly, not… shy."

"They want to be known for their strengths, not their weaknesses," Ron said.

"Would you have rather I said that Harry's been on two whole dates, both of which were painful failures for him?" Hermione asked.

Ron opened his mouth, then shut it and walked off muttering about 'women.'

Hermione picked up a basket and began wandering around the shop. She saw the herbal that she'd been reading that morning and put it in her basket. She saw the third book in the "Dorothy Gale and the Squib Wizard" series and added that to her growing pile of purchases.

Ginny began to examine Uncle Badger's selection of Muggle games and toys. "Candyland? Monopoly? Snakes and Ladders?" she said in amazement. "Muggles come up with the strangest games. Who would want to play with snakes?"

"Slytherins, maybe," Ron said from where he was investigating the sporting equipment.

"Tell me, do you know which professional Quidditch team Mr. Potter favors?" Uncle Badger asked. He opened a black lacquered box. A hand reached out of the box, grabbed the edge and shut it with a click.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but the Weasleys beat her to the punch.

"The Chudley Cannons," Ron blurted.

"The Kenmare Kestrels," Ginny said firmly.

Ron walked over to her so he could glare down at her. Ginny stood her ground and met her brother's eyes fiercely. The Weasley stare down stretched out, as both were certain that Harry rooted for their favorite Quidditch team.

Uncle Badger cocked an eyebrow at Hermione.

Hermione shook her head, both in answer to Uncle Badger's question and at her own ignorance. It was ironic, she thought, that she knew Ron and Ginny's favorite teams and players, she didn't have a clue as to whom Harry favored.

"I'm sorry," she finally had to admit. "I don't know. I'm afraid I don't pay much attention to Quidditch. I mean, outside of the Gryffindor House team."

"What are you talking about?" Ron said, indignantly. He broke eye contact with Ginny to glare at Hermione. "You know he's a Cannon's fan!"

"Hey, Harry is a fan of the _best_ Quidditch team," Ginny began hotly.

"That's the Cannons!"

"In your dreams! Harry supports the _Kestrels_!" Ginny said hotly. "I should know!"

"Based on what? Your long relationship? You went on one bloody picnic with him!" Ron bellowed, his face turning Vernon Dursley Puce. "He's been my best friend since we started at Hogwarts!"

They continued arguing for several minutes, both of them getting so red in the face that their freckles disappeared.

Uncle Badger looked at Hermione with a blank expression on his face. Hermione couldn't tell if he was alarmed, upset or trying desperately not to laugh.

When the Weasleys were reduced to telling rude stories involving giant spiders, drunken pixies and purple frog spawn, Hermione threw her hands up. "Enough! We obviously can't risk buying Harry any Quidditch merchandise based on team until we know for certain which team he follows."

The Weasleys glared at her.

"For all I know, he might root for the same team as his godfather, or Dumbledore!" Hermione said.

"Perhaps he inherited his father's taste in Quidditch teams," Uncle Badger said. "According to Modern Magical History, James Potter was a big fan of Ludo Bagman and the Wimbourne Wasps."

"No!" both Weasleys exclaimed in horror.

Hermione tried to hide a smirk.

"There's nothing about James Potter's Quidditch preference in Modern Magical History, is there?" Ron challenged.

Hermione batted her eyes at him. "Of course there is," she said sweetly. "Right next to the section on Cipenapers."

The Weasleys relaxed and chuckled.

"I still say he likes the Cannons," Ron said.

"Bah, boys," Ginny sniffed. "He only puts up with them because he doesn't want to antagonize you."

"Maybe we should think of something else to give him," Hermione said. She leveled the Fire-starting Glare of Extreme Huffiness at the Weasleys and they shut up.

Uncle Badger sighed. "You three are determined to make this hard on me, aren't you?" He rubbed his chin with a forefinger. "Ah," he said in enlightened tones. He took a step back and snapped his fingers.

A feather boa dropped from the ceiling and he pulled on it. A rack of racing brooms descended from the ceiling. "How's his broom situation?" Uncle Badger asked eagerly. "I've got some _excellent_ Silver Arrows and modified Moontrimmers in stock!"

Ron frowned. "Aren't those brooms kind of old?" he asked, dodging his sister's kick.

"These are classics!" Ginny said. She stared at the Silver Arrows wistfully.

Hermione sighed when it looked like the Weasleys were going to get into another argument. Their summer wasn't going well if they're this edgy, she decided. She'd better intervene. Fortunately, this was something she did know. "Harry's got a Firebolt, Uncle Badger," she said, almost apologetically.

Uncle Badger's eyes looked ready to leap out of their sockets. "A Firebolt? A real _Firebolt_? Have… have you seen it up close?" he asked eagerly.

Ron was reminded so much of Oliver Wood that he had to hide his smile by ducking down and study some Muggle gadget or other.

Hermione nodded. "But I've never flown it," she added. "I'm not good with brooms." She never had been, even when all she needed to do with them was clean.

"I've flown it," Ron said eagerly. "It's sweet!"

"Absolutely the best broom I've ever been on," Ginny agreed. Although, considering that the only other brooms she'd been on had been the school's ancient and abused brooms and her brother's second-hand, equally abused brooms, that wasn't saying much.

"Does the Firebolt…" Uncle Badger visibly pulled his mind away from Broom Lust. "Erm, well, he won't need one of these beauties, then." He gave the feather boa another tug and the Silver Arrows rose majestically out of sight. "Does he have a sword?"

Hermione's eyes went wide.

Ron looked over at the case of swords with a gleam of Sharp Edge Lust in his eyes.

Ginny gasped. Her mother couldn't object to a sword if it was Harry's birthday present! And who knew what else Ron would sneak into the package. "Erm, I think swords are rather out of our price range," she said hastily.

"Not to mention, it would be tricky to get it to him," Hermione said. "I don't think his relatives would allow him to keep it at their place, and students have been banned from keeping swords in the castle since 1699, when the McCoy brothers, both Gryffindors, decided that a Slytherin prefect named Churly Hatfield was getting too familiar with their sister, so they decided to cut off his…"

She didn't finish her sentence because Ron clamped his hand over her mouth. "Enough with the history lesson," he said. "It's a moot point, anyway," he added. "Harry's inherited a perfectly nice sword. It's a magic sword with a ruby the size of my fist in the hilt."

"All right, then," Uncle Badger said. "Swords are out." He sighed. "I expect that daggers are out, too. I don't suppose Professor McGonagall would let any of her students have edged weapons." He hefted a leather box that looked like it weighed more than Ginny. "I suppose he has a broom servicing kit?"

Hermione, rather alarmed at the size of the kit, nodded in relief.

"I should have guessed," Uncle Badger muttered. "Wait, I _did_ guess, never mind. How about… No," he pulled his glasses off and polished them. "Oh, I know!" He walked over to the gumball machine that Hermione had noticed earlier.

"Mini Quidditch balls!" Ron exclaimed. "Wicked!" he hunkered down to study the balls. "I've heard of these, but I've never seen a set." He shook his head. "They don't carry them at Quality Quidditch Supplies."

"I expect not," Uncle Badger said. "They're a recent invention, by Carl Weber of Weber broomsticks. I've got a niece who immigrated to the States. She is married to the brother of the wizard who handles international sales for Weber Brooms. She managed to get me some early orders."

Uncle Badger pulled his wand from behind his back and gave the gumball machine a tap.

The teens stared as the egg-sized balls stirred and began moving around the gumball machine. When they bent to take a closer look, they could see that the red balls merely floated while the black balls caromed around the inside of the gumball machine like over caffeinated pinballs.

"These are perfect," Ron said reverently. "Harry will love them." He looked at Uncle Badger. "He can use them even when he's with his Muggle relatives, right?"

Uncle Badger nodded. "Yes, they're like brooms that way."

"Nobody gets cited for flying," Ginny told Hermione. "Brooms have their own magic; they don't set off the Ministry's sensors."

"Harry would enjoy having a piece of the wizarding world at Privet Drive," Hermione mused.

"Plus he loves Quidditch," Ginny said.

Hermione shot her a sideways look. "Really? I didn't know that."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you," Ginny said with a smirk.

"So, how much is this perfect present?" Ron asked.

They looked at the price and winced. Then they went into a huddle to discuss finances and other people who might be persuaded to contribute their worthy cause. Then they checked the price again to see if it had miraculously changed in fifteen minutes.

It had.

They looked at the shop owner for an explanation of this sudden windfall.

Uncle Badger rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Everything in the store suddenly went on sale," he said blandly. "Prices have been slashed by fifty percent."

"Really? Just like that?" Hermione said with a snap of her fingers.

"Surprised the Chizpurfles out of me, too," Uncle Badger said with a "what can you do?" shrug.


	12. Hermione and Harry's Presents

A Sirius Situation

Chapter 12 Compare Contrast Muggle Wizard

Author: Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, JK Rowling does

Ron frowned. "Hold on, here," he said. "I appreciate what you're doing…"

"Magical shops are like that," Uncle Badger interrupted. "There's just no arguing with them when they decide that you have to reduce the price of something for a favored customer."

Uncle Badger tapped the side of the Gumball machine again. "These balls are all made from a special type of rubber from a sap that can only be found in a place call Wrigley fields, somewhere in the middle of America," Uncle Badger said. "The Bludgers are solid, but the Quaffles are hollow."

Ron reached out and turned the knob of the gumball machine but nothing happened.

"Can't let the little beauties escape," Uncle Badger explained. "The Quaffles actually float, rather than just fall slowly, so you can't risk them disappearing against the ceiling."

The teens looked up and saw a variety of objects dangling from the ceiling.

"You especially wouldn't want the Bludgers to get out," Uncle Badger continued. "They've a bit on the nasty side. Nothing like full-sized Bludgers, of course, as they're made of that special rubber instead of steel, but they can still raise a bruise, maybe even break a bone, if you're not careful."

"I'll just bet they can," Hermione said.

"Be a bit of a bother if your customers kept getting whacked in the head," Ron observed cheerfully.

Both girls rolled their eyes.

"Where are the Snitches?" Ginny asked.

"Ah, they have to be kept separate from the others," Uncle Badger said. "Their wings are quite delicate, you know." He pulled a gold and black enameled box from somewhere and opened it for his customers' inspection.

The inside of the box was lined with black velvet and there were a dozen indentations in the velvet. Ten of the indentations were filled with walnut sized copper balls.

Hermione leaned forward for a closer look. "These are regulation sized Snitches, aren't they?" she asked.

"So they are, my lioness," Uncle Badger said, apparently delighted that she had realized that. "However, these aren't nearly as elusive as regulation Golden Snitches. Copper Snitches are much easier to keep track of."

He gently pried one out of the box. "Listen." He released the ball and it fluttered off, making a low humming noise as it did.

"If you hum or whistle the tune that the Copper Snitch is playing, it will return to you," Uncle Badger said. "I can set the tune to whatever you choose." He grinned. "Well, actually, anybody can set the tune; it only takes a simple cantrip."

He whistled the tune, which Ginny and Ron recognized as the team anthem of Puddlemere United: "Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle Here."

"But we can't use magic until we get back to Hogwarts," Hermione said, who didn't understand why the Weasleys were grinning. Obviously, she just missed some sort of wizarding in-joke.

"Ah, yes," Uncle Badger said. "The sets already have songs associated with them," he said. "Or if there aren't any songs that Mr. Potter would like, I can change the song to something that you think he would prefer."

The three looked at each other.

"Any idea of what he might like?" Ron asked the girls.

Ginny shook her head. "Not a clue," she admitted glumly. Here Harry was almost her boyfriend, and she didn't know what kind of music he liked!

"Well, that's something for you to ask him in your next letter," Ron said philosophically.

"That doesn't help us choose a tune," Hermione said gloomily.

"Mind you, I'm not familiar with the latest songs on the Wizarding Wireless, and what I don't know about Muggle music would likely fill every book in this shop," Uncle Badger said. He gestured around.

"We could pick the anthem of his favorite team, if we had a clue as to which team was his favorite," Ron said.

"Harry's never mentioned any favorite song," Hermione said. "At least, not to me he hasn't."

"Perhaps we should keep it to something we're sure he's heard," Ginny said. "A Christmas carol, perhaps?" she chewed the inside of her cheek.

Uncle Badger returned the Copper Snitch that he was holding to its nest. "I have a set here that plays and responds to 'Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful,'" he said, plucking out a different Copper Snitch.

Hermione grinned. "That will do," she said. "Even if he doesn't know it, I can teach it to him!" She looked at the gumball machine. "How do you control the other balls?" Hermione made a face. "More to the point, how can _we_ control them?"

Uncle Badger nodded. "Watch and learn," he said. He opened the top of the gumball machine and pulled out a dozen or so tin whistles on chains. "These little beauties are all that you need."

He sorted through them, studying the tags on the chains. Finally he pulled one of them out. "This goes with the "Faithful" set of mini balls," he said. He blew gently on the whistle and two of the mini Bludgers and one of the mini Quaffles came shooting through the gumball machine's dispenser.

The mini Bludgers aimed for Uncle Badger's face, but he caught them easily. "You can call all four of your balls by whistling your chosen tune," he said. "But the Bludgers won't be as cooperative if you just whistle for them. The Beater bats will help you keep them under control."

He pulled another case out from somewhere and plucked out two miniaturized Beater's bats. He let go of one of the Bludgers and gave it a smack.

The Bludger flew off and decapitated a stuffed Clabbert. Then it whirled around and dived at Uncle Badger's face. Instead of hauling out his wand, Uncle Badger whistled and the Bludger slowed down. Uncle Badger then swatted at it and the Bludger wound up sticking to the bat like it had been glued there.

"See? The whistling activates the miniature bats special protections," Uncle Badger said.

"Wicked," Ron said.

"I understand," Hermione said with a nod. Then she checked her watch.

"Do you have an appointment, then?" Uncle Badger asked with some disappointment.

Ron and Ginny looked dismayed.

"Can't you stay a little longer?" Ron asked.

"I have to meet my cousins at the Forge Mall in about two hours," Hermione said. "I need to leave myself enough time to get back. I'd hate to keep them waiting."

"Ah, you have plenty of time," Uncle Badger said. "You can Floo to old Candlewick's shop from here; he's actually got a shop in that mall. Candles being rather popular with Muggles just now."

"He's got a fireplace inside the mall?" Hermione asked, charmed.

"That he does," Uncle Badger said. "He's very proud of it, too. He'll be happy to show it off for a friend of mine."

"Excellent," Hermione said. "I need to get to the mall a bit early; I have to pick up a new toothbrush. Meanwhile, do you have any good books on Arithmancy?"

Ron rolled his eyes, and then reconsidered. "Maybe we should get Harry a few books," he said. "He's finished all his Quidditch magazines. He needs something to do, 'coz Madam Pomfrey won't let him get out of bed except to go to the loo."

"That was way more information than anybody needed to hear," grumbled Ginny.

The three began to hunt around the room for something that might keep Harry entertained.

Hermione, of course, was also looking for books for her own enjoyment. In addition to the herbal and the children's book that she'd found earlier, she bought herself a copy of Principia Mathematica by Alfred North Whitehead and Bertrand Russell, The Logical Progression of Arithmantic Formulas in Transfiguration by Professor Polly Nomial, and The Admittedly Unauthorized, but Highly Entertaining Biography of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore by _Senhora_ Jorges Arantes.

For Harry, she bought a copy of He Flew Like a Madman: The Authorized Biography of "Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn.

Ron and Ginny picked out a couple of used books that they thought would keep Harry amused: Who Has More Fun? By Faris Wheeler, which compared Muggle entertainment to wizarding entertainment. Ginny also picked out a children's book titled "Brooms, Carpets and Things that Go Whoosh in the Air," by Atmos Feere.

"Don't you think Harry's a bit old for that?" Ron asked.

"It's got the complete history of flying," Ginny said defensively. "It's even got a section Muggle flying contraptions and how to avoid them."

Ron shrugged. "It's on your head if he doesn't like it," he muttered.

Ginny frowned, but kept the book in their pile.

Ron kept looking covetously at the swords, but restrained himself from asking Uncle Badger to bring them out. He looked at a book about classic Muggle chess games, but decided that he couldn't afford it.

Instead, Ron opted to buy Harry a stack of magazines. At a Knut apiece, Ron reckoned that he could get Harry enough reading material to last him for a month.

Uncle Badger had amassed quite a collection of Muggle magazines and their wizarding counterparts such as "When Saturday Comes" the half way decent magazine about football and "When Saturday Apparates" the one quarter decent magazine about Quidditch.

He also snuck in a few copies of the humor magazine, "Whiz" (and some copies of the Muggle magazine "Viz," which looked like it had the same level of humor.)

He debated adding some Quidditch posters, but decided against them. He'd save that until he knew for sure which team Harry preferred. (Although it saddened him, he had to admit, if only to himself, that Harry might not be more influenced by his girlfriend than his best friend when it came to Quidditch teams.)

After they finished their shopping, Uncle Badger produced a passable tea of shepherd's pie and pumpkin pasties from Auntie Macassar's café, and made some cocoa to wash it down. As they ate, they wound up chatting about various books and favorite authors with Uncle Badger. They also got into a discussion about their favorite places to read.

Ginny opined that there was nothing like a squishy chair in front of the fire on a rainy day. "It's only better if there's a table with a pile of buttery scones, and a cup of hot cocoa with marshmallow Snitches," she said. She took a swallow of hot cocoa and marshmallow Snitch, and grinned.

Uncle Badger confessed that there was nothing as satisfying to him as to get involved in a good adventure story when he had something else he should be doing. "I love the adventures of Alan Quatermain almost as much as I love the adventures of Sussex Smith."

Normally Ron would have found a discussion about reading to be boring, if not downright revolting. However, at that particular moment he had his nose buried in a book about great Muggle chess matches, much to Hermione's amusement.

"So, Ron, what's your favorite time and place to read?" Ginny teased.

Ron looked up from the account of a Muggle machine defeating a human chess champion1. "Incredible, that is either some machine, or one stupid player," he muttered. He looked up when he realized that he had been addressed. "Eh?"

"What's your favorite time and place to read?" Ginny repeated.

Ron shrugged. "The orchard's nice," he said. Seeing Ginny and Hermione smirk at his book, he hastily put it aside. "What? I like reading in the orchard. Especially when I'm hiding from Mum when she wants me to get dressed up to visit Great-Aunt Stuffy Shirt."

"Great Aunt Stephana Sheerling," Ginny corrected. "She loves to pinch cheeks," she added to Hermione and Uncle Badger.

"I find it's especially enjoyable to pick up a good book when I've finished all my homework… and Ron and Harry are still struggling with their essays," Hermione admitted with a smirk. "They'll ever so casually try to get my attention, but…"

Ron's ears turned pink.

"It's so easy to get lost in a good book," Uncle Badger smirked back. "Ah, I had some days like that, too, my lioness." His eyes twinkled. "Of course, I wasn't interested in having handsome young wizards vie for my attention."

The rest of Ron's face turned pink.

Hermione blushed and quickly changed the subject. "Well, what's my total, then?" she said stacking up her selection of books, presents and the Spirit Box.

Uncle Badger jotted down the prices, added in the applicable taxes, grumbling about paying both Muggle and wizarding taxes. "That's the trouble with catering to both worlds," he muttered. He handed the total to Hermione.

"You forgot to add in the Spirit Box," Hermione protested. "You've already knocked off quite a bit from Harry's Quidditch set… and our books!"

"The Spirit Box is a gift from me, my lioness," Uncle Badger said in tones that brooked no argument. "I haven't enjoyed an afternoon like this in longer than I can remember."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Thank you!"

"You're quite welcome," Uncle Badger hesitated. "I mean that, you three are welcome here any time. You can always Floo in if you ever need an escape route."

Hermione blushed and grinned. "I appreciate that," she said. "How can I repay you?" She asked as she counted out the money that he would allow her to pay. Fortunately, he was used to taking Muggle money as she didn't have any wizarding money on her.

* * *

1 Actually, Deep Blue defeated world chess champion Garry Kasparov in 1997, so this doesn't fit the canon time line. On the other hand, Sirius isn't dead in this story, either. 


	13. Triskaidekaphobia

A Sirius Situation

Chapter 13

Triskaidekaphobia

There.Is.No.Chapter.13


	14. Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff

A Sirius Situation

Chapter 14

Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor

Author: Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, JK Rowling does

Uncle Badger laughed. "I'm not doing this for repayment, my little dandelion," he insisted. "I just want you to be safe, both in your cousins' new bed and breakfast, and in Helga's Forge."

"Thank you," Hermione said again. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?"

Uncle Badger looked wistful and shook his head. "No, my lioness, I think not."

Hermione studied him for a few minutes, and then smiled cheerily. "I'll send you a Christmas card, then," she said. "I'll be sure to have my friends sign it, too."

Ron and Ginny nodded vigorously.

Uncle Badger smiled, "I'd appreciate that, my lioness. Oh, and give my regards to that sweet Minerva McGonagall, when next you see her. She was always very patient with me."

"I'll do that," Hermione promised. It was odd thinking of Professor McGonagall as being 'sweet', but she reckoned she had more bizarre images cross her mind. She felt that she'd guessed correctly that Uncle Badger really wanted Harry's autograph, only couldn't ask because he thought that would be "too forward."

Just then, an owl swooped in and dropped off a note.

Uncle Badger picked it up, read it, and then handed it to Hermione.

"Oh, good," Hermione said, after she read it. "Charlie and the Hengsts are going to be at the entrance to the Forge Mall at the rendezvous time. Poor Belinda will be safe for tonight, anyway. The vicar had the foresight to call Bob and Belinda's parents to invite us to stay overnight. Apparently the vicar is having a special dinner for young adults."

"How unlike Zephaniah to arrange something like that on such short notice," Uncle Badger said.

Hermione smirked a little. "Anyway, Cousin Annie will bring our overnight things when she comes, in case any of us decide to stay."

"Do you think the others will want to stay?" Ginny asked.

"Well, Belinda will," Hermione said. "And Tanya will stay if Belinda stays."

"Leoma's very pretty," observed Ron.

Hermione gave him a hurt look.

"Not as pretty as you," Ron amended hastily. "But your cousin and his friend will probably be impressed enough to stick around. Especially if she starts flirting."

"Did she ever flirt with you?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Would you two excuse us for a moment?" Ron said. He steered Hermione over to where a set of bookcases made a mostly private nook.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Ron said. "You act like you are going to burst into tears if I even mention another girl."

Hermione frowned. "Don't you think I'm pretty?" she said.

"Of course I do!" Ron hissed. "That doesn't mean that I can't notice that other girls are pretty, does it? It's no skin off your nose if I still have eyes in my head! If you're going to get jealous every time I talk to another girl, then this isn't going to work out at all."

"You get jealous," Hermione said defensively.

"When you go to another country to visit another wizard, yes," Ron said. "Not when you talk about another wizard's looks."

"Yes, you do," Hermione corrected. "You hate it when I mention that I think Justin's cute or that I don't mind looking at Parvati's poster of Kirley McCormack."

"Oh," Ron said, looking startled. "I guess I do get jealous."

They stared at each other for a few minutes, not sure where to take the conversation from there. They were used to arguing at the top of their lungs, not discussing things in a mature, rational manner. Frankly, it scared them.

"Well, then, let's not argue over this, okay?" Ron finally stuttered. "Harry would be upset if I forced you to say he was the ugliest thing on two feet."

"That wouldn't be true," Hermione said. "Not while Professor Snape is still around."

Ron sniggered.

Silence.

Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry that I overreacted," she said.

"Nah, you didn't overreact," Ron said. "I mean, my hair didn't fall out and I'm not covered with boils or really nasty acne." He hesitated, then drew on his courage and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll have to get you a better mirror for your birthday," he said. "So you can see that you're the prettiest witch in the world."

Hermione blushed.

Ron still couldn't think of anything to say, so he decided to just kiss her.

"I'd best be on my way, then," Hermione said, when she could stop stammering and hyperventilating.

Ron was having a bit of trouble with respiration and blood flow, so he reckoned that he'd done the kissing thing correctly. "Erm, oh, well, we need to get on our way, too," he managed.

They rejoined the other two. Ginny looked highly amused. Ron had a sneaking suspicion he knew the topic of her next letter to Harry. Uncle Badger looked both amused and sympathetic.

"If I can, I'll drop in before I leave," Hermione said to Uncle Badger.

"You can use my fireplace to get back to London," Uncle Badger offered.

"Thanks," Hermione said regretfully. "But I wouldn't be able to explain that to my cousins. I'm afraid that I'm stuck with British Railways."

"You make it sound so horrible," Ginny said. She looked up from a bundle of black fluff in her hands. "Is the Muggle train really that bad?"

"Is that really a puppy in your hands?" Ron asked. "Mum will go spare if you try to bring home a dog."

"It's just a toy, Ron," Ginny sniffed. "Look, it runs on batteries." She flicked a switch and the palm sized puppy began to bound around on her hand and emit high-pitched yapping noises.

"Ow!" Ron covered his ears. "Turn that thing off, it's a bloody menace!"

"Ron, language!" Hermione barked.

Then grinned at each other, feeling a little more comfortable now that they had slipped back into their accustomed roles.

"I think it's adorable," Ginny said. She sighed and put it down.

"Can't afford it?" Ron asked.

Ginny shook her head.

"I know how that feels," Ron said. "I had to pass on the Muggle chess set."

"You're interested in chess, are you?" Uncle Badger asked.

"Yeah," Ron said.

"Any good?" Uncle Badger asked.

Ron straightened up proudly. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am good at chess," he said.

Uncle Badger gave him a challenging grin. "Care to back that up?"

Ron grinned. "Is that a challenge?"

"It is indeed," Uncle Badger said.

"Okay, then, I think we have enough time for a round," Ron said.

Hermione checked her watch, and then nodded.

Uncle Badger smirked. "Let's make this more interesting," he suggested.

Ron narrowed his eyes and studied him warily. "Mum always said not to gamble with money I don't have," he said.

"I didn't say anything about money," Uncle Badger said. "I was thinking of that toy dog for… what will you wager?"

Ron thought about it for a minute. "I know," he said finally. "How about a signed picture of Harry Potter?"

"You have one?" Uncle Badger asked.

"I can get one," Ron said.

"Very well, then, you're on."

Uncle Badger set up his Hogwarts Chess Set – gold and scarlet pieces for the Gryffindor, yellow and black for himself.

The boy knew something about the noble game of chess, so it would be tricky to lose and not make it look like he was throwing the game. He'd just have to keep an eye open for places to make "mistakes," he decided.

"Wow," Ron said.

Ginny and Hermione were also impressed with the chess set.

"These are gorgeous!" Hermione enthused. She picked up a Hufflepuff bishop, who waved at her genially.

"It's a one of a kind set," Uncle Badger said proudly. "There are pieces for Ravenclaw and Slytherin, too."

"Slytherin probably cheats," muttered Ron.

"Ravenclaw probably takes forever to make a move," Ginny snickered.

"Now, now, let's not get into House rivalries today," Uncle Badger admonished. "I have friends in all houses, nowadays."

He held out his fists, with a Gryffindor knight in one hand and the Hufflepuff knight in the other.

"Your choice," he said. "Pick your house and you go first. Pick mine, and I go first."

Ron nodded, and pointed at Uncle Badger's left hand, which held the Hufflepuff knight. "Hufflepuff is White today," he said cheerfully.

"All right, then" Uncle Badger said. He decided on the Dresden opening. It was a Muggle opening that usually lost the game for White, but one the boy was unlikely to recognize.

Rather, one he didn't expect the boy to recognize. The disgusted look that Ron gave him made Uncle Badger suspect that he'd underestimated the young Gryffindor.

Uncle Badger never lost a game so quickly before.

Ron chortled to himself as he started putting the survivors away.

Uncle Badger glared. "I was too easy on you, my fine young lion."

Ron leered at him. "Best two out of three?" he suggested, in a mocking tone.

Uncle Badger knew he'd deserved that for so underrating Ron. That didn't mean he had to put up with it. "You're on," he said. "But, just to give these pieces a few minutes to catch their breath, let's play with the other pieces." He leered at Ron. "I'll take Slytherin."

Ron's grin became wolfish. So, Uncle Badger thought that he could beat him in a matter of minutes? "I reckon the chess set isn't as important as the chess player." To the pieces, he said, "C'mon you Eagles, let's show these snakes how the game is played."

This game took longer. Ginny and Hermione watched for a while, and then wandered off to do some more shopping. They kept a wary eye on the players, because the sound coming from the chess game was more appropriate to the Roman arena than a 'gentlemanly' game of chess.

Ron eventually won, with a series of cleverly laid traps, a determined knight and a couple of inspired pawns. Even his Ravenclaw chess pieces were impressed with him.

"You'll have to come back for a rematch," Uncle Badger said. "So, what's your second forfeit?"

Ron gave him a blank look. "Excuse me?"

"Well, you won two games," Uncle Badger said. "You wanted the Angus Helvetica pocket knife, and you can pick anything else… within reason… for your second prize."

"Oh, well," Ron thought for a moment. "I'll take some of those battery thingies for the dog."

Uncle Badger was a little surprised that Ron didn't pick something for himself, but he only said, "I'll just wrap those for you, shall I?"

Ron handed the toy dog to Ginny, who cuddled it like it was a real dog. "Thank you, Ron," she said happily. "What should I name him?"

"Killer," Ron answered.

"Honestly, Ron, you are such a prat," Ginny said.

"It's part of my charm," Ron said.

The Weasleys were still arguing as they paid for their treasures. They bundled off into the Floo network with cheerful "farewell's" and "don't forget to write's."

The shop seemed very dark and quiet after the Weasleys had left. Hermione and Uncle Badger looked at the dragon chimney for a few minutes, and then Hermione shook herself.

"I'd better get over to Mr. Candlewick's shop," she said. "I have just enough time to buy that new toothbrush before I meet up with my cousins, and Charlie and the Vicar."

"I'll send my owl Quill around to check on you tomorrow night," Uncle Badger promised. "Keep an ear out for an old barn owl, now."

"Thank you," Hermione followed Uncle Badger to his fireplace and took a handful of Floo powder.

"Are you sure you won't need my help?" Uncle Badger asked a trifle anxiously.

"Not absolutely, but I believe that this will work out," Hermione said with more confidence than she felt. "Charlie will be there, and he works with dragons."

"He can't be in the same room as you, or the gremlin won't show itself," Uncle Badger warned.

"Right, I know that," Hermione said. "Charlie and I will work out some sort of signal, in case I need help." She paused and rubbed the bridge of her nose with a forefinger. "I expect that a long, drawn out scream should be sufficient."

"You know you can't use magic," Uncle Badger repeated.

"All I need is a bit of cleverness and the right tools," Hermione said with a grin. She held up the bag of her purchases. "I may not be able to use my wand, but I have my wits… plus, of course, the always useful "tooth of the lion'."

"Good luck, my Dandelion," Uncle Badger said. After she left, he shook his head. "_Gryffindors_," he said, not without affection. This was one story that it was going to be hard to wait for the ending!


	15. Hermione and her Plan

A Sirius Situation

Chapter 15

Hermione and her Plan

Author: Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, JK Rowling does

Amazingly enough, everything went just as planned. Hermione arrived at Cuthbert Candlewick's shop with plenty of time to buy her mum a few scented candles that would burn for weeks. She couldn't think of anything to get for her dad and wished she'd picked something up for him at Uncle Badger's.

She strolled through the modern mall, dutifully admiring the decorations, although she preferred the eclectic and mysterious clutter at Uncle Badger's. She found a store that sold the kind of toothbrush that she wanted. She also found a shop that sold books about the history of the region.

As suspected, there was nothing in it about the haunting of the priory.

Then Hermione made her way to the main entrance to the mall. She didn't have long to wait before her cousins showed up.

They were just comparing purchases (she admired Belinda's new crucifix and she pretended to admire Hermione's set of books) when Vicar Zephaniah Hengst, his daughter Leoma, and Charlie Weasley strolled up to them to tender their invitation to dinner and a night of star gazing.

"There's supposed to be a meteor shower at one o'clock this morning," Charlie said. "We were wondering if you would like to come and meet some of the other young adults in the area. It will be fun as well as educational."

Belinda and Tanya were much taken with the idea… or maybe it was Charlie they were taken with. Hermione was glad that Ron wasn't there. If the other two girls had fawned over him the way they fawned over Charlie, Hermione was sure she'd lose control of her powers.

As it was, she still found it annoying. She was amazed that Charlie put up with it with such equanimity. Of course, she told herself, Charlie might actually enjoy being fawned over like some rock star. (Just because Harry hated it didn't mean everybody did.)

Fortunately, Bob and Geordie were much too busy being impressed with Leoma to notice, or care about, how much Belinda and Tanya were impressed with the Vicar's "Nephew."

Annie showed up with their overnight bags, much to the amusement of Tanya, Bob, and Geordie.

"We've been set up," Bob said. He didn't feign his Cockney accent, for which Hermione was grateful. Apparently acting like a total git in front of a girl as pretty as Leoma was out of the question.

"I don't mind," Geordie said, never taking his eyes off Leoma.

Belinda looked at Hermione, who cocked an eyebrow at her.

"I don't know how you pulled this off," Belinda said. "But I appreciate it." She fingered her new cross. "Vicar Hengst agreed to bless my cross tonight, but I don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow night."

Hermione patted her shoulder. "Don't worry about tomorrow night," she said. "Charlie Weasley and I have a plan to make the Priory perfectly safe from that thing."

Belinda nodded and blinked back sudden tears.

Then Leoma pulled them into a conversation about dancing, and Hermione shrugged off thoughts about the gremlin.

Hermione enjoyed the meteorite show more than she expected, although she wondered if it was a real shower or an illusion put on for their benefit.

She and Leoma even found some time to compare their O.W.L. results. Leoma was a bit put out to discover that while she and Hermione had achieved the same number of O.W.L.s, Hermione's overall score was higher than hers.

"It's the Defence Against the Dark Arts that tipped things my way," Hermione said, blithely overlooking the fact that she outscored Leoma in everything. "When you hang around Harry and Ron as much as I do, you learn how to defend yourself, fast."

Leoma decided to accept that explanation. "So, what's Harry like, really?" she asked. "I saw him in the Prowlery, of course, but most of the time he seemed sick or distracted."

"He's a bit on the shy side when it comes to girls," Hermione said. "He's only open with me because he doesn't quite classify me as a 'girl.'"

"That's too bad," Leoma said. "So, does he have a girlfriend at all? I know he fancied Cho for a while."

"That didn't work out," Hermione said. "I think he's seeing Ginny Weasley, but I'm not sure."

"Oh," Leoma said. She brushed back her raven hair and sighed. "I guess I haven't much hope of competing against her. Who'd pick boring black hair over those flaming tresses?" She wandered off looking disappointed and Hermione wondered why a beautiful girl like Leoma felt she couldn't compete.

"Maybe we all feel ugly," she muttered. That was an answer she wasn't sure that she'd ever find in a book.

The next morning, she was up early, but Charlie and Vicar Hengst were up before her.

"Good morning, Hermione," Charlie said. "How are you feeling?"

"Nervous," Hermione admitted. "I have my wand, but if I use it, I'll probably be expelled. I did get a warning last summer for involuntary magic."

"I think, maybe you should borrow my wand," Charlie said. "I'll hold on to your wand."

"How will that help me against a charge of underage magic?" Hermione asked.

"Well, my wand won't set off their alarms," Charlie said. "And if they investigate the use of your wand, then I can truthfully say that I had been using it."

"Oh," Hermione tilted her head. "Won't they be suspicious of you using my wand?"

Charlie shrugged. "Maybe, but there won't be much they can do about it. Your wand won't work as well for me, but gremlins are pretty low on the Ministry of Magic's classification scale. We shouldn't have a problem."

"Only two X's for them," Hermione said. "We shouldn't underestimate them, though. "Anybody can get in a lucky blow."

"Which is why I'm here," Charlie said, his broad face crinkled cheerfully. "To prevent any blows, lucky or otherwise."

"And I'm so very grateful that you just happened to be in the neighborhood," Hermione said with a touch of asperity.

Charlie just grinned. "Can't have anything happen to my future sister-in-law," he said.

"Oh? Are congratulations in order?" asked Vicar Hengst.

"No," Hermione said firmly. "Ron and spent quite a bit of time studying for our O.W.L.s together last year and people are making more of it than necessary."

"Ah, Leoma's mentioned the Prowlery," Vicar Hengst said. "An excellent idea. I wish we'd had one when I was sitting for my O.W.L.s." He shuddered. "I still have nightmares."

"It only gets worse," Charlie said with the cheerfulness of someone's whose exams were safely in the past. "N.E.W.T.s will be upon you before you know it."

"I'll be ready," Hermione said grimly. "Ron will be ready, if I have to beat him over the head with a steel plated study guide."

Speaking of 'ready', Charlie said more seriously. " I've got the trap all rigged and ready. That Uncle Badger sold you high quality Spirit Gum, it would probably even hold Peeves long enough to do him some mischief."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Not that I didn't think you were capable of setting the trap yourself," Charlie assured her. "But I've had experience, so I could do the work faster than you could."

He looked at his watch. "There's a reception here starting at eleven. We want to get this over with between the time your adult cousins leave the Priory and the time the reception starts.

"Right," Hermione said. She went upstairs to brush her hair and get her coat.

"It looks like I'll be offering those congratulations in only a few more years," Vicar Hengst said.

Charlie grinned. "According to my sister, Ron and Hermione have been crazy about each other since they first laid eyes on each other."

"The fact that she's willing to tackle this gremlin to help her cousin shows the girl has courage to spare," Vicar Hengst said.

"The fact that she would entertain the thought of joining a family that includes Fred and George proved that to me months ago," Charlie returned amiably. He finished his tea and stood up as Hermione returned.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

They exchanged wands.


	16. Hermione at Bay

A Sirius Situation

Chapter 16

Hermione at Bay

Author: Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, JK Rowling does

Annie and Jack were on their way out when Charlie and Hermione arrived.

"Oh," Annie said in surprise. "Aren't you coming to the Vicar's brunch, Hermione?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione said. "I just forgot something."

"Oh, did I forget to pack your good blouse?" Annie said in dismay.

"No, no," Hermione said. "I just forgot that I'd packed a necklace."

Annie shook her head in disgust. "I didn't even think about jewelry," she said.

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said. "I don't usually wear jewelry, so I could have done without, but since Charlie was so obliging as to offer to drive me over, I thought I'd take him up on it."

"Ah, well, thank you, Charlie," Annie said. "You are a true gentleman."

"Thank you," Charlie said. "I try to live up to my Mum's expectations."

"Please be sure that the front door is locked when you leave," Jack said. "Everything else is locked up." He looked at his watch with a harried expression on his face. "We'd stay and chat, but we have to meet with the plumber before tea. There's another problem with the hot water in the kitchen." He sighed. "If things keep going this expensively wrong, we may just lose our investment."

"Don't worry," Charlie said. "I think you've just had a rough beginning. Things are bound to get better."

Jack gave him a wry smile. "I'd feel more reassured if the other owners hadn't had such wretched luck." He shook Charlie's hand and nodded at Hermione. "We'll see you in a few hours."

Hermione nodded. As soon as they were out of sight, they walked inside. Hermione said in a loud voice. "I'm going to take a quick shower before I change, Charlie. Now, you be a gentleman and amuse yourself outside."

Charlie sighed. "If you insist," he said. He walked to the back door, opened it, and then slammed it loudly. Of course, he stayed inside with Hermione's wand in his hand.

Hermione had permission to use Belinda's lighted make up mirror. So when she finished her shower, she sat in front of it, in her dressing gown, brushing her bushy brown hair. In her other hand, she held the Spirit Box like a book that she was reading.

The image that she saw in the mirror made her stomach churn and she was glad that she hadn't had any breakfast that morning. However, she just ignored it by pretending to be engrossed in her book. She also ignored the flickering lights and the sparks that flashed from Belinda's curling iron.

When she brought out her new electric toothbrush, she could almost feel the gremlin's excitement. She could see its leering face out of the corner of her eye, but she ignored it and plugged it in.

Holding the toothbrush delicately in her fingertips, she squirted toothpaste on the bristles, being careful not to get any on the handle. Then, steeling herself, she put the brush in her mouth.

It was difficult to brush her teeth while holding the brush so unnaturally, but she hadn't really expected to clean her teeth.

After a few seconds, the brush developed a sour taste, and she heard a soft snicker inside her mouth. Revolted even though she'd instigated orchestrated the attack, her first desire was to throw the brush across the room and throw up.

Fighting back her gag reflex, Hermione yanked the cord out of the toothbrush. Then she yanked the toothbrush out of her mouth. As she did so, the gremlin began to ooze out of the toothbrush, glaring and gnashing its teeth.

It stalked toward Hermione and stepped directly into the Spirit Gum on the handle.

Astonished when it found it couldn't move its paws, it looked down. That gave Hermione enough time to shove the toothbrush into the Spirit Box, gremlin side down (as Charlie had instructed her).

The gremlin eyes shot sparks and its oversized jaws snapped down, but only succeeded in cracking the toothbrush and gluing its mouth together.

Hermione slammed the Spirit Box shut, yanked the key out and squirted more spirit gum into the lock.

She began to relax, but the lock began to tremble.

She grabbed Charlie's wand, then realized this would probably take more experience than she had. So she scooped up the Spirit Box, bolted out of the bathroom and down to the kitchen where Charlie was waiting.

Hermione hurriedly handed him his wand and slammed the box down on the table. The lock was already beginning to come apart under the gremlin's furious assault.

Charlie's mouth thinned when he saw that the lock wasn't going to hold. He waved his wand and muttered a locking spell. Then he sealed the Spirit Box shut.

"That could have been disastrous," Hermione said. "I hadn't thought about the lock not holding."

"Obviously, neither had Uncle Badger," Charlie said grimly.

"Do we have to tell him?" Hermione asked.

"He can't go around selling defective boxes," Charlie said. "Wait…" he leaned closer. "Ah, false alarm."

"What?" Hermione asked.

"The lock is a trap," Charlie said. "Even if the gremlin had managed to break it, it couldn't have escaped." He turned the box over in his hands. "I think that the lock is designed to lure the gremlin into crawling into it. Then there's another layer under that…"

"Like one of those insectivorous plants," Hermione said. "The more the insect tries to get out, the deeper into trouble it gets." She stared unhappily at the Spirit Box.

"Hermione, the box won't kill the gremlin," Charlie said patiently. "Gremlins aren't really alive. They don't have metabolisms. They're just nasty, destructive emotions given a solid form."

Hermione sighed. "I know that," she said. "That doesn't make me feel better." She gave Charlie a sideways look. "There are a lot of wizards who will tell you that Muggles aren't really human, just because we're different."

Charlie thought that over for a few minutes. "Point taken," he conceded. "However, this Spirit Box won't actually harm the gremlin in any way. If you unlock it," he looked into the glue filled keyhole. "Well, if you could unlock it, the thing would just crawl out and attack the nearest moving object."

"Right," Hermione sighed. "Well, Belinda is safe, and I think my cousins' problems with the building are mostly a thing of the past."

Charlie nodded. "Any problems the gremlin caused will be easy enough to take care of," he said. "While you get ready, I'll go through and fix some of the most egregious of the gremlin damage. That way your cousins will only have to fix the normal wear and tear."

Hermione gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks, Charlie," she said. "You're an angel."

Charlie shook his head when she left. "Ron, you lucky dog, you," he muttered. He'd have to be nicer to his youngest brother. Who knew, maybe some of that "Lucky in Love" stuff would rub off on him.

Hermione's last day with her cousins passed quietly.

She sent a message with Uncle Badger's owl to let him know that everything had worked out. Charlie sent an owl to Ron, Ginny and his mother to assure them that all was well.

Bob and Geordie discovered that they were passionately interested in astronomy and had retreated to their room with a stack of books that Hermione had recommended.

Tanya took to writing long letters to one of the local boys she'd met at the tea.

Belinda just relaxed in the library, content in the knowledge that the Thing was no longer in her home.

"You're really not a bad sort," she told Hermione, who had her nose in a book.

"Why thank you, Belinda," Hermione said with almost no sarcasm. "I think I could learn to like you, too."

"There must be a book on the subject," Belinda teased.

Hermione grinned.

"I'm just glad you were able to find something in a book to tell you how to get rid of that thing," Belinda went on.

"Books are very useful tools," Hermione said. "They allow us to interact with people from every walk of life, no matter what language they spoke or when they lived."

Belinda cocked her head to think about that, and then she looked around the library where Hermione had ensconced herself. "I never thought about it that way," she said. "I always thought of books as being dead things."

She looked back down at Hermione and grinned. "Lucky for me, you're such a bookworm."

Hermione made a face at her, but smiled afterward.

"I mean, really," Belinda went on. "What could be swottier than reading history books for fun?" She had expected that to be a rhetorical question, but Hermione's smile broadened into a grin.

Then Hermione held up the book she was reading.

"Principia Mathematica? You're reading a Maths book for fun?" Belinda's voice went shrill.

Hermione looked fondly at her new book. "Why, yes, I believe I am."

Belinda shook her head. "All right, that has got to take the cake, there is just no way to get swottier…"

Hermione's grin almost split her face in half.

"You _can_?" Belinda asked, almost plaintively.

Hermione held the book so Belinda could see the pages and exclaimed happily: "It's in _Latin_!"

That was the last time Belinda ever tried to argue with Hermione.

Author's Note:

I deeply apologize for the delay in getting this story out. I really did not intend to take four years to write and post this! I've decided to do it in sections. I hope this section was worth the wait!


	17. Hogwarts in Summer

Chapter 17:

Hogwarts in Summer

By Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, alas.

Harry was never more grateful to his friends than he was that summer, as they were his main defence against going insane from boredom. Mrs. Weasley, of course, sent treats at every opportunity.

Ginny sent chocolate frogs and sugar quills, along with her chatty letters. She was miffed that she couldn't come visit, especially as Ron was allowed to visit once as part of his Honey Badger internship as a Honey Badger.

Ron's white robes were looking a bit worse for wear, and the hems had obviously been stretched to their limits. But Ron was so proud of them, Harry didn't say anything. Except, of course, to insist that Ron shouldn't eat any chocolate frogs as he didn't dare risk dripping on his white robes.

This only encouraged Ron to gobble down as many chocolate frogs as he could get his hands on. He did leave the cards for Harry, as well as the stack of magazines that he had picked up at Uncle Badger's.

The day would only have been better if they had been allowed to practice their Animagus forms. Unfortunately, Sirius, Tonks and Madam Pomfrey watched them like hawks, so they had no opportunity.

Sirius even confiscated Nicely on the grounds that if the OWLs examiners got so much of a whiff of the book, Harry would be expelled.

The downside of Ron's brief visit was that after he left, the Hospital Wing seemed even lonelier. Tonks and Sirius were there, however, but they were frequently distracted by a rather peculiar pastime.

Hagrid was off somewhere doing only Dumbledore knew what. However, now and then an "interestin' critter" with wings would turn up with a small gift. Once a bat had fluttered in with a small wooden whistle.

Another time, a cranky looking Quetzalcoatl slithered in and left a bunch of bananas on the foot of Harry's bed. Harry didn't eat them. However, he appreciated the thought.

Hermione sent him some of the latest PROWL guides. Harry tried very hard to appreciate the thought. He finally gave up and hid them under the mattress of an unused bed. At least her letters were entertaining.

Hermione's parents made up for the PROWL guides by sending grapes. Lots of grapes. Bunches and bunches of grapes. Harry began to wonder if they had invested in a vineyard.

The grapes proved to be a mixed blessing. They started out as a tasty treat, but then Harry started tossing them for Sirius to catch.

Then Tonks decided she would try to transfigure the grapes before Padfoot could snatch them out of the air.

Padfoot won three out of four tosses. Then Tonks transfigured a grape into a hot pepper that caused Snuffles to yelp, spit in out and run for the nearest fountain.

Tonks felt very pleased with herself. Until Sirius transfigured a grape into a banana peel. Instead of causing Tonks to slip and fall, as in all the Muggle comedy routines, the banana peel wrapped itself around Tonks ankle and refused to release her until Tonks sang the Hogwarts School song to the tune of "God Save the Queen."

"You will pay for that, Black," growled Tonks once she was release and the banana peel was once more a grape.

"I survived Death Eaters, Dementors and NEWTs, cousin, what can you do?" Sirius challenged.

Tonks just narrowed her eyes until they were literal slits in her face. "You'll see," she vowed.

If Harry didn't have motivation to get out of the hospital wing before, Tonks and Sirius' peculiar pastime would have given him one. Even Muggle courts recognized self-defense as a legitimate reason to do just about anything.

However, escaping the Hospital Wing wasn't easy. For some reason, Madam Pomfrey didn't think that prank wars and rampaging grapes were sufficient.

Harry brought another weapon to bear. "I need to revise for my OWLs," he said, glad that he had hidden the PROWL guides.

"You won't be able to get into the library," Madam Pomfrey said with a frown. She looked at the stacks of unread magazines with a frown. Not that she couldn't take them with her, she just didn't want people to see her reading Wiz.

"Dobby can open the library for me, can't he?" Harry said.

Madam Pomfrey brightened up considerably. "Of course he can," she said. "We'll give you a whistle so you can summon him when you need him to lock up."


	18. Not a Walk in the Park

Chapter 18:

Not a Walk in the Park

By Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, alas.

Hogwarts in the summer was eerie. Even more so than the Christmas holidays.

Harry wished that Ron, Ginny and Hermione were there to keep him company. Or Neville, Seamus, Dean. He'd have even been happy to see Lavender or Parvati.

But there was no one to talk to. All the students and teachers gone, and the generally helpful portraits were gadding about, visiting descendents or going on museum tours.

Even the ghosts were nowhere to be found. Peeves was in a particularly foul mood and the poltergeist seemed intent on making the other ghosts suffer.

This resulted in a definite scarcity of ectoplasmic companions. Harry truly regretted that as he would have liked to have talked to Nearly Headless Nick.

Unfortunately, the only ghost he saw were Bloody Baron and Professor Binns, both of whom he avoided.

He found out the hard way, though, that neither Blacks nor Binns nor Bloody Barons were the worst things he could come across during the summer.

Hogwarts liked to stretch its wings. It also liked to bend its corridors, flex its staircases, redecorate its walls and rearrange its rooms.

Harry hadn't become lost so many times since his first year.

One day, the corridor that used to lead to the fruit picture that concealed the secret passage to the kitchens suddenly ended in a cul-de-sac formed by the intersection of two barrel arches. Under the crossed arches, there was a statue set in a recess in the wall.

Deciding he might as well get something out of this unexpected detour, as well as needing to satisfy his curiosity, Harry moved up to take a closer look.

The statue was of a homely, bearded man who apparently had foot problems. He was seated on a trunk, one ankle crossed over his knee and he was massaging the sole of that foot.

The plaque under the statue read: "St. Peder Estrian of the Fallen Arches."

Sirius' voice came from behind him. "Hey!"

Harry whirled around, a response that he later credited with saving his life.

"Get out of there!" Sirius roared.

Harry started to move forward when he saw motion out of the corner of his eye. In a twinkling, he transformed into Abyssinian cat form and sprang forward.

The gust of wind generated by the collapsing walls blew Harry into Sirius' arms with enough force to knock the older wizard sprawling to the floor.

Harry flinched at the horrendous crash behind him.

"When they say 'fallen arches,'" Sirius said archly. "They mean it."

Harry made a face. "Right."

"What are you doing here?" Sirius demanded.

"I wanted to go to the kitchens," Harry said defensively.

"WHY?" Sirius demanded. "You have plenty of food in the hospital wing!"

"The operative phrase here being ' in the hospital wing'," Harry said dryly.

"Oh," Sirius said. "Next time, bring someone with you."

Harry watched as the arches slowly pushed themselves back into place, like an arthritic old man getting up after tripping. "Might be a good idea at that," he said. "Fallen arches can be murder."


	19. Explore Some More

Chapter 19:

Explore Some More

By Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, alas.

Harry really had intended to keep his promise to stay put.

However, the boredom and a sense of foreboding had him feeling restless.

It didn't help calm his nerves when Dumbledore informed him that, instead of waiting for the end of August, he would be "allowed" to take the OWLs on July 30.

He wasn't sure if he was ready. He'd had an extra month. However, unlike Hermione, he could only revise for so many hours at a time before he had to take a break.

Adding annoyance to disquiet, the Prank war between Sirius and Tonks had escalated. Furniture sprouted teeth. Pillows sprouted wings. Crockery and glassware made suicidal runs on anything that moved.

So Harry went back to taking his chances on the castle, in spite of the hazards. Like the staircase that suddenly decided it was tired of people tramping up and down it during its holiday and turned into a slippery slope.

Only a quick snatch from a friendly suit of Gryffindor armor prevented Harry from taking a nasty spill.

Another time, Harry was practicing his self-transfiguration (it was easier to sneak around in cat form) when Tonks stepped out of what appeared to be a tapestry and tripped on him.

This resulted in a lot of swearing on Tonks' part on the floor and hissing on Harry-the-Cat's part from on top of a bust of Ravenclaw's Sir Edgar Allan of Nevermore.

Tonks glared up, her blue eyes going golden and feline. Her sweet face transformed into a credible imitation of McGonagall's cat face.

Harry stopped hissing and changed back into his boy form

"Might I inquire as to why you are not currently occupying your bed in the hospital wing?" Tonks inquired cattily.

"Erm," Harry said. He thought that mentioning that he was trying to avoid her and her cousin would be impolitic. "Madam Pomfrey said that I could go to the loo?"

A feline ear flickered.

"I have a suspicion that Madam Pomfrey meant the loo in the hospital wing, not the one in Gryffindor Tower."

"Oh, really?" Harry failed to even approximate innocence.

"Yes, I really think so," Tonks said dryly. Her face morphed back into a human face, only she still looked like a young McGonagall. "You're just lucky you're so cute. Come on; let's get you back to bed."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her unintentional double entendre and grinned.

Tonks turned bright pink and her face changed back to her own, with the slight exception that she had no mouth.

Harry's grin became wider.

Tonks snorted and turned away. She indicated, with a jerk of her head, that Harry should follow.

Harry was too busy trying to put a straight face on to pay attention to where they were headed. For some reason he assumed that Tonks knew where she was going.

When he recognized the corridor they were in, he hesitated.

Mouthless Tonks looked over her shoulder at him. "Hmmee? Wfs wng?" A cat muzzle sprouted on her face. "Harry? What's wrong?" she asked nervously. Cat ears appeared on her head and swiveled nervously.

"This is the corridor that Fluffy used to guard," Harry said, equally nervously.

"Fluffy?"

"Hagrid's pet Cerberus," Harry explained.

"_Fluffy_?"

"Hagrid," Harry repeated.

"Oh, right," Tonks said. She frowned and her face faded back into a human's face. "Wasn't that in your first year?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "When Dumbledore was hiding the Philosopher's Stone here," he said.

"I heard that Flamel destroyed it," Tonks said.

Harry nodded.

"Then, Fluffy should be gone, too, right?"

Harry shrugged. "I have no idea where he is," he admitted. He thought about the past four years and then added. "Although there haven't been any warnings to stay out of this corridor since my first year."

"So there shouldn't be anything scarier than Peeves around here, right?" Tonks asked, clearly wanting reassurance since she was still whispering and looking around.

"Erm," Harry said.

"Right, let's go then," Tonks said.

They didn't get far before they were stopped short by the sight of a water dish the size of a bathtub and a food dish filled with dismembered chicken carcasses.

Not that Tonks and Harry spent a lot of time examining the dishes. Not when the owner of the bowls was lying right next to them, snoring away.

Tonks and Harry gaped, much as Harry and his classmates had gaped at Fluffy, because every snore was accompanied by a puff of smoke.

Without so much as an exchange of glances, both stepped backwards very slowly and with as little noise as humanly possible.

Then the guardian of the hall shifted its weight, and let out a snort. A small jet of flame shot out from the Norwegian Ridgeback's nostrils.

Neither Tonks nor Harry was in danger of being singed, though. The minute that the dragon moved, they bolted back the way they came like, well, there was a dragon breathing fire at them.

By the time they ran out of breath and corridor, they were out of breath and completely lost.

"That, that wasn't Fluffy, right? Right?" Tonks demanded. She leaned over and clutched her knees as she fought for breath.

"No," panted Harry. "Not sure, but I think…" He stopped to drag in some air into his burning lungs. "I think that was Norbert."

"Norbert?" Tonks said faintly.

"Of course, it's been years since I saw him," Harry added when he had more oxygen to spare. "He was only so big then." He gestured to indicate the smallness of Baby Norbert.

"Harry, you're joking, right?" Tonks demanded. "Even Hagrid couldn't want a pet dragon."

Harry didn't answer.

"Tell me that you're joking," Tonks insisted. "Lie if you must."

Harry took a deep breath, couldn't think of anything to say, and stalled by looking around. "I think this corridor looks like it leads somewhere… safe," he said, pointing to their left. "Well, safer, anyway. Come on." He started off at a fast pace.

Tonks shook her head and followed, grumbling. "The one time I need a man to lie to me…"


	20. OWLs

Chapter 20:

OWLs

By Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, alas.

The OWLS were almost an anticlimax.

The questions, as Hermione had surmised, were far easier to deal with than the questions in the Practice OWLs. Or maybe it was because he'd followed Hermione's advice for once and revised until his eyes began to blur.

He made a few small blunders, he knew, but the examiners seemed inclined to overlook them. Perhaps they hadn't even noticed them.

The awe that the examiners displayed made the OWLs somewhat easier on Harry, but extremely hard on the furniture.

The Care of Magical Creatures examiner allowed a Niffler to get loose. It managed to get into Dumbledore's office and smash the glass doors of Dumbledore's book cases and broke several of his astronomical instruments.

The history examiner kept feeling faint. That wouldn't have caused much damage, except that the sherry bottle she had brought to revive herself was smashed when the Niffler escaped.

The Potions examiner managed to drop several beakers and a mirror during Harry's potions exam.

The Transfiguration examiner lost her spectacles. Which might explain how she managed to change a wall banner into a crystal chandelier. The chandelier was unfortunately too heavy to the hook that the banner had been on.

Padfoot, who was watching the proceedings with deep suspicion, had to leap frantically to avoid being smashed by the falling light fixture. Only quick wand work on Dumbledore's part kept the crystal shrapnel from injuring anybody.

When the Charms examiner met Harry, she couldn't stop giggling. And when Harry successfully demonstrated his Patronus, she let out such a squeal that several windows shattered and the Divination examiner dropped his crystal ball.

It couldn't have been a very well made crystal ball, because it shattered when it hit the ground. Or perhaps it was that the Charms examiner's shriek was more potent than they realized.

"I predict that Filch is going to be furious," Harry said.

Pyrex Lucid smiled wryly. "I think that may qualify as an 'Acceptable' for Divination," he said. "Unless you would care to try another method?"

Harry shook his head. "I'll take the 'Acceptable'," he said. "I really wasn't expecting that much."

Lucid smiled again and said. "I quite understand. Divination isn't everybody's cup of tea."

Harry laughed. At this point, any joke would have sounded good, because his OWLs were over, his birthday was tomorrow and he would be leaving the hospital wing on August 1st.

He wasn't sure where Dumbledore had decided to send him. However, this summer, even the Dursleys would be better than Hogwarts.


	21. Christmas Cards

Chapter 21:

Christmas Cards

By Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, alas.

The only thing that was better than knowing that his OWLs were finally behind him, was knowing that his birthday was just before him.

He woke up early and almost drove Madam Pomfrey mad with his pacing.

Finally, the guests began to arrive.

Hermione came with the Weasleys. At least, such Weasley children as still lived at The Burrow.

"Hi, Harry!" Ginny said. She gave him a quick hug. "Mum and Dad will be along in a bit."

"They had some errands to run," Hermione explained.

"They were off to threaten the twins with dire consequences if they injured you or ruined your birthday," Ron elaborated. He looked around. "Any snacks?"

Dobby, of course, was thrilled to wait on them.

"Dobby is glad to see friends of Harry Potter again," the house elf said. "Would Harry Potter's friends like something to eat?"

"We'll have some tea, Dobby," Harry said, just a trifle worried that Hermione would turn him down.

Dobby vanished and returned very quickly with a plate of appetizers and a pot of tea.

Harry recounted his experiences with the OWLs for the entertainment of the others.

"Wow, that was a lot of broken glass," Ron said. To Dobby, he added. "Did you have a lot of problems cleaning that mess up?"

Dobby shook his head. "Dobby has no idea who cleaned the mess up," he said scowling. "It was all finished when we got there."

Harry wondered if the House Elves were territorial or just bored.

The bored theory seemed to be born out because several house elves popped in and out offering a variety of edibles. They also brought cushions for the chairs, footstools, ice cubes, straws, extra napkins and anything else that was required.

Harry suspected that they'd have produced their firstborn, if they'd been asked.

"It must be very dull for the Hogwarts' elves during the summer," Ginny observed.

"Don't they get time off?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"They don't want time off, dear," Mrs Weasley explained. "They like to work."

Hermione frowned, but before she could speak, Ron interrupted.

"They're a lot like you that way," he said.

Hermione turned her frown at him.

Ron shrugged. "Well, how many of your essays have you finished this summer?" he asked.

"All of them," Hermione huffed. Then she laughed. "All right. I admit that House Elves like to work. Maybe that's why I feel sympathy for them."

Pleased at having headed off yet another rant about House Elves, Ron decided to consolidate his position by changing the subject.

"Well, what do we do until the party starts?" Ron asked. "I can't wait until Harry sees his presents!"

"We could play cards," Ginny suggested.

"No card games!" Madam Pomfrey. "I don't want any explosions in the Hospital Wing!"

"Speaking of cards," Hermione said, deciding it was her turn to change the subject. "Did you ever look at those Christmas cards in your mum's trunk?"

"Christmas cards?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "You mean in that trunk?" she indicated the trunk that was at the foot of Harry's bed.

"Yeah," Harry said. "My mum left it with my aunt when she and my dad were…" he hesitated while he tried to think of how to describe what his parents were doing."When they were moving around a lot," he finished.

"I see," Madam Pomfrey looked like she was going to say something else, but then obviously changed her mind.

Ron opened the trunk and fished out one of the cards. "Harry's mum was a lot like Hermione," he said. "She believed in starting projects early." He pulled out an unsigned card. "See?"

Madam Pomfrey took the card. "Very nice," she said a trifle sadly. The picture was of Lily and Baby Harry standing in front of a Christmas tree. Lily was smiling and waving, but Baby Harry was definitely pouting at the viewer.

"Apparently she'd started on her Christmas cards before…" Hermione trailed off.

"Before she and my father were killed," Harry said.

"I was wondering if any of them were still deliverable," Hermione said. She looked at Harry a bit nervously. "If you don't mind," she added.

Harry hesitated. "Well, we might as well get them out of the way, if we can," he said. "Some of them are tricky, because my mum didn't write down their full names."

Madam Pomfrey nodded and handed the card back to Harry. "I see. Well, I shall be in my office if you need me help. I have probably treated most of your parents' friends at some point; I might be able to identify the people for you."

"Thank you," Harry said.

She waved her wand and a bed tray floated over to Harry. Then she went back to her office and the quizzes in the stack of magazines that were waiting for her there.

Ron opened the trunk and pulled the stack of cards out. "We should divide them into categories," he asked, placing the cards on the bed tray. "You know, people we know, people we don't know."

Hermione nodded in approval.

The other three drew their chairs up to Harry's bed so they could see.

Harry took the stack of addressed cards out of the trunk. "Let's see, there's one for Prof. A. Dumbledore." he picked it up "Doesn't feel like there's anything in it."

"Aw," Ginny said.

"Maybe she hadn't finished it?" Hermione suggested.

Harry leafed through the other envelopes. "I think she changed her mind about how to address him. Look, here's one addressed to Albus D.,

"Your parents were on first name basis with Dumbledore?" Ron was impressed.

"Guess so," Harry said absently, still reading. "Mara H., Berenice S."

Hermione said. "The second one is Professor Sinistra."

"Yeah, Prof. Sinistra once said that she knew my mum when they were in school," Harry replied. "Prof. Sinistra was a few years ahead of my mum and she was in Ravenclaw. But they had a few things in common. Mostly a desire to give my dad a kick in the… shin."

"Why is that?" Ginny asked.

"He was a prankster like Fred and George," Ron said.

"Oh." Ginny said.

Harry flipped through a few cards without reading them because he didn't recognize the names. He paused. "Peter P."

"We should put that under 'People We Don't Like'," Ginny said.

Harry put that at the bottom of the stack.

"Here's one for Sirius," he said, setting it aside.

Ginny looked at the stack. "Anybody else in there that I would know?" she asked.

"Erm, Minerva M., Filius F., Vertumnus and Pomona S.," Harry read.

"That would be Professor Sprout and her husband," Ginny said.

"Professor Sprout is married?" Ron asked, incredulously.

"Ron! You make it sound so unlikely!" Hermione said indignantly.

"Who'd want to marry _her_?" Ron demanded.

Hermione scowled. "Somebody who loved her, idiot."

"What?" Ron said.

Harry remained silent on the topic, though he had a hard time seeing Professor Sprout as being the object of anybody's lust. He continued reading. "Frank and Alice L."

The Weasleys looked grave.

"That might be Frank and Alice Longbottom," Ron said. "Neville's parents."

"Oh," Harry felt awkward. "I guess I should give this to Neville," he said.

"You might want to talk to Dumbledore first," Ginny said. "It's not like Frank and Alice are uncommon names."

Harry nodded and tucked the card into the same place as the card for Peter P.

"Stop trying to think of a way to blame yourself," Ron said.

Harry made a wry face.

Harry picked up another card and read the name to change the subject. "Bella F. That might be Arabella Figg, the witch who's been living as a Muggle in my neighborhood most of my life. She used to be my babysitter."

"Wow, she must be pretty devoted to do that!" Ron said. "Living like a Muggle." He shuddered.

"And what's _wrong_ with living like a Muggle?" Hermione demanded coldly.

Harry quickly read the next names to head off an argument. "Ah, Remus L., looks like you're not the only one to send Remus a Christmas card, Hermione."

Ginny opened her mouth, and then shut it again. She wondered why Harry and Ron hadn't sent Christmas cards to Lupin, but decided it wasn't any of her business.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Who's next," Ginny said after a few minutes.

"Irma P."

"Hermione can tell you who that is," Ron smirked.

"I'm surprised that you recognized the librarian's name," Hermione sniped.

"Alastor M.," Harry read doggedly.

"Do you suppose there's any point in giving a card to Mad-eye Moody?" Ginny asked. "He'd probably just destroy it in case it was a dinglehopper in disguise or something."

"You've been hanging around Loony Luna too long," Ron said.

"Don't insult Luna Lovegood," Ginny said. "She was my only friend after the Chamber of Secrets incident."

Ron opened his mouth.

Harry and Hermione glared.

Ron shut his mouth.

"We all should recognize Poppy P," Ginny said, reading the next envelope upside down. She snatched it up and trotted over to Madam Pomfrey's office.

Ron raised an eyebrow at her when she came back and she blushed. "Sorry," she muttered. "I guess I should have asked first."

"That's all right," Harry said. "But I wouldn't have asked you to walk over there." He gave Ron a significant glare.

Ron's answering gesture drew squeals of indignation from the girls.

Harry grinned as he picked up the next card and read. "Argus F." He snorted. "Nice to know Filch didn't hate both of my parents. Next… Russ S." He looked at Hermione.

Hermione shrugged.

Harry put that in the pile to ask Dumbledore about. He flipped through the cards again. "That looks like all of them," he said with a frown.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked.

"I wonder why there isn't one for Hagrid." Harry said. "If she wrote one for Filch, there should be one for Hagrid, too."

"Maybe she didn't get to it," Ron said. "Or maybe it's still in the trunk." He looked inside the trunk. "Oh, here's a few more in here." He picked up a card and promptly fell off his chair, howling.

"What?" Harry demanded.

Still laughing too hard to speak, Ron handed the card to Harry.

Harry's eyes went wide with shock when he read the name. "No! How could she!" he cried. "Hand me my barf pail, I think I'm going to hurl."

"What?" Hermione demanded. "Who is that for?"

Harry held up the card so Hermione and Ginny could read the name.

"Gilderoy L?" Ginny laughed so hard she almost fell off the bed.

"He must have just been starting on his career," Hermione said with a thoughtful frown. "Your mum might have actually known him, rather than being a fan."

Harry wasn't sure what was worse; his mother being a fan of Lockhart's or his mother being a friend of Lockhart's. "Why didn't he say anything if he knew her?" he wondered. "I can't see him missing the chance to drop names like that."

"Probably because you wouldn't stand still long enough," Hermione said.

"Or else one of those feats of derring-do that he wrote about was actually something your mother had done," Ron guessed. "He didn't want anybody examining his relation with your Mum too closely."

"Great," Harry sighed. "But that doesn't explain where Hagrid's card is." He was feeling nauseated. If Filch and Lockhart rated cards, then Hagrid should have rated one, too!

He rummaged through the trunk. "Here's a card," he said. "But it's about twice as big as the others."

"Must be Hagrid's, then," Ron said wisely.

"It is," Harry said with relief. "What are those other cards?"

Ron looked them over. "They're all blank," he said. "Guess Hagrid's is the last of them." He thumbed through the cards. "You know who you should give one of these blank ones to?" he asked.

"Huh?" Harry said perplexedly. "Why would anyone want a picture of me as a baby?"

"_Mum_ would love one of these," Ginny said. She picked up one of the cards and looked at it closely. Lily Potter had been very pretty. Ginny wondered what she would have thought of the Weasley clan.

"Ginny would like one, too," Ron teased.

"Maybe Hermione would like one of you," Ginny returned.

"Sure your Mum can have one," Harry said hurriedly, before yet another prank war could break out.

Hermione was apparently gearing up for a fire-starting glare of extreme huffiness, but she was distracted by the arrival of the twins.

It was one of the few times that Ron was glad to see them.


	22. Sweet 16 Birthday

Chapter 22:

Sweet 16 Birthday Party

By Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, alas.

"Here we come, to save the day!" Fred and George caroled.

"But who's going to save us from you?" Ron muttered.

"Ronnie-kins!" Fred exclaimed. "Our favoritest little brother of all time!" He threw his arms around Ron.

"I'm the only brother younger than you, you… moron," Ron finished as he shoved Fred away. He looked the others anxiously. "What did he do?" he asked.

Hermione, Ginny and Harry studied him carefully.

"No color change," Hermione reported.

"Nothing's sprouted," Harry said.

"There seems to be a sign stuck on your back," Ginny said.

"What?" Ron demanded, looking over his shoulder.

"Just a harmless little advertising," George said genially.

"Get it off!" Ron said, glaring.

"Oh, it has the Chudley Cannons logo," Ginny said. "It actually looks quite dashing."

Ron gave her a disgusted look. "Am I supposed to believe you?" he demanded.

Ginny smiled. "Would your favorite sister lie to you?" she asked.

"Yes," Ron said. "So would my least favorite sister, my fattest sister," this drew a glare from Harry. "And my most clever and beautiful sister," he added hastily.

Ginny giggled and Harry stopped glaring.

Hermione delicately removed the Chudley Cannons logo from Ron's back.

Nothing happened.

Hermione looked at the orange paper with the Cannons logo at it. And then she looked at the twins.

"What?" George demanded.

"I don't like the way she's looking at us," Fred muttered.

Ginny giggled.

Hermione gave her a stern look.

"Okay, it works like this," George capitulated.

"Traitor!" muttered Fred.

George grinned. "We're here for youthful jollity. This will be fun." He tapped the logo with his wand and the cannonball zoomed off the page and straight for Ron's face.

"Hey!" Ron complained, throwing up his hands.

Before the cannonball touched him, it exploded into confetti.

"I said NO EXPLOSIONS in the hospital wing!" howled Madam Pomfrey as she charged into the room. The scowl on her face faded when she saw the confetti. She didn't actually smile, though. She just sighed deeply and shook her head before going back to her office, muttering.

"Did she just say 'I thought they were gone for good?'?" George asked.

"That's what it sounded like to me," Ron said. "I'm very familiar with that phrase now. Mum says it every time you come over for dinner."

Both twins clutched at their chests.

"Wounded," Fred moaned.

"Cut to the quick," George added.

"Maybe we should leave," Fred said.

"More cake for us," Ginny said.

"On second thought, Brother Mine, it would be rude of us to leave without participating in the festivities in honor of our young friend," George said.

"I'm sixteen," Harry said.

"They grow up so fast," Fred said, wiping an imaginary tear away from his face.

"Unfortunately, you haven't grown up at all," Harry said.

"He noticed!" George said in delight. "That calls for …" he waved his wand and a brightly wrapped package appeared.

"A birthday present!" crowed Fred.

"Open it," George urged.

Harry looked at them suspiciously, and then grinned and tore into the package.

"Brave man," Ron murmured.

Nothing untoward happened.

Hermione and Ron sighed with relief.

Harry poked through the various items. "What's this?" he said. "Dragon fireworks?"

"They're one of our best sellers," Fred said proudly. "It'll create a good image of a dragon that will even gallop around the sky breathing fire."

"Cool," Ron said. "What're those?"

"Those are pencils," Hermione said. "A Muggle writing utensil." She eyed Fred and George with suspicion.

Fred grinned. "Muggles like them because the pencil 'lead', which is actually graphite, which is a form of…"

"I already know that graphite is carbon, like charcoal," Ron interrupted. "And that it's easier to erase than ink."

"Right," George said.

"What's the catch?" Harry asked.

George smiled and said: "Once you start writing with them, you'll just keep on writing until somebody touches the eraser."

"The funny thing about this," Fred added, "is that people need to think of something to write, so they tend to start writing what ever is on their mind. Kind of like an enforced diary."

"You realize the Ministry of Magic could use this against us," Ron said. "Make people confess to things like playing pranks or working with escaped convicts."

Fred and George exchanged alarmed looks.

"Not to mention, what happened to the last batch of Mum's sticky toffee pudding," Ginny added darkly.

Fred snatched the bundle of pencils away from Harry. "On second thought, these need to be rethought. DO enjoy the other offerings, however."

"Especially the Instant Swamp," George said.

Harry laughed.

"So, what are we doing now?" Fred asked.

"We were looking at a bunch of old Christmas Cards that Harry found in his Mum's trunk," Ginny said.

Fred and George rolled their eyes.

"How about playing Exploding Snap?" Fred asked.

There was a rumble from Madam Pomfrey's office that sounded remarkably like an annoyed Hungarian Horntail.

"We found a lovely Muggle game to try," George said. He looked at Hermione. "Are you familiar with piñatas?" he asked.

"Yes, but I'm not playing with any toy you two invented," Hermione said. "Especially not a game that involved hitting a small Trojan horse filled with Weasleys Wheezes."

Fred and George exchanged sad looks.

"She's so young to be so cynical," Fred said.

"She's been hanging around with bad company too long," George said.

"Yes, the two of you," Hermione said tartly.

"Why don't we have Harry open more presents?" Ron said. To Harry he added. "Hermione, Ginny and I went in together. It's brilliant."

"Even if you do say so yourself," George murmured.

Ginny and Ron made faces at him.

"I think so, too," Hermione said.

"You would," muttered Fred.

Ron beamed at her.

"I'm going to be sick," George said.

"Then I'll help out by eating your share of the cake," Ron volunteered.

"I'm feeling much better," George said hastily. "So, what is this splendid present?"

"Let's start with the other presents first," Ginny said. "I don't think we'll be able to concentrate on the other packages once ours has been opened."

"Well, I'm all agog, now," Fred said. "Let's have at them, then."

Mrs Weasley sent another box of treats. Which Hermione promptly confiscated as they were having cake later. "No need to ruin your appetites," she scolded.

All the boys sighed.

Tonks' present was several decks of wizarding cards. Remus had sent a book of stories about the adventures of some young wizards known as "The Quidditch Boys."

"You'll like those," Hermione said. "They're like the Famous Five!"

Sirius' gift was tickets to the next Quidditch World Cup, which was going to be held in Canada.

"Wow, top row seats, hotel rooms and everything," Ron said.

"And enough for the whole Weasley family," Ginny cried in delight. "Including Hermione!"

"I think I can talk my parents into letting me go," Hermione said excitedly.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger sent a box of clothing: blue jeans, new shoes, socks, underwear… Harry didn't want to know how they knew what size to send him… and a t-shirt with the Dr. Who logo and TARDIS on the front.

Harry and Hermione laughed so hard they had trouble breathing.

"I don't get it," Ron admitted.

"It's a Muggle thing," Fred sighed. He hated not being in on the joke.

"Really?" George asked sarcastically.

Fred shot him a sideways look. "Yeah, I think so. Those are police call boxes. Muggles used them to call for help."

"Oh," Ginny said. She looked at the still giggling Harry and Hermione. "Somehow I think it means more than that, though."

"It's a long story," Harry said. He didn't want to get into a long explanation of Time Lords and time travel. Especially since the twins didn't know about Hermione's experiences with the Time Turner.

"Here, open this," Ron said eagerly, handing Harry the package they had bought at Uncle Badger's.

"You can't give Harry a present wrapped in Hufflepuff paper!" George was outraged.

"We can if it's from Uncle Badger's shop," Hermione said.

"Who's Uncle Badger?" Fred demanded.

"A friend of Charlie's," Ginny lied with nary a trace of a blush.

It shut the twins up, though. They both adored Charlie.

Harry took a deep breath. Somehow he was more nervous opening this than he had been opening the twin's present.

"Hurry up!" Ron urged.

Matters were taken out of Harry's hands when the miniature Bludgers escaped and ripped open the package from the inside.

"Down!" shouted Fred. He and George dived for cover.

The others laughed like hyenas, causing Fred and George to look up and make sour faces.

"I thought you two loved jokes," Ginny said 'sweetly.'

"Only when we're playing them," George replied honestly.

Harry just laughed with delight. He pulled out the other balls and began experimenting as Hermione explained how to control them.

Even Madam Pomfrey was enticed into trying her hand at it. She really had no one to blame when they managed to shatter several windows in their efforts to control the miniature Bludgers."

"What song are you going to use?" Ron asked.

Harry whistled the opening bars for Dr. Who. Of course, only Hermione recognized it. So the two of them wound up laughing like hyenas again.

"I have a feeling we have been left out of this joke," Ron said to Ginny.

"It's just that Dr. Who is like a Cauldron Opera," Hermione said. "That tune is the opening theme song."

"I see," Ron shot her an odd look.

Hermione mouthed that she would explain it later.

Fred and George looked like they might want to argue the point. However, that's when the rest of the adult guests and the food arrived.

And they never did learn the truth about Dr. Who from Harry and Hermione.


	23. Down in the Dumps

Chapter 23:

Down in the Dumps

By Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, alas.

After the Weasleys and Hermione had left, Madam Pomfrey shooed Dumbledore and the others out of the Hospital Wing, claiming that Harry was overtired and needed some rest.

Harry didn't feel tired.

Instead of resting, he sat on his bed and practiced with his new Quidditch set. He was concentrating on the Bronze Snitch, so he did not realize that the miniature Quaffle had escaped until Madam Pomfrey scolded him and ordered him to put his new toys away.

Not finding the Quaffle in the Hospital Wing, Harry snuck out. Fortunately, the Quaffle was merely hovering around a portrait of Jeanne Arcadia, the legendary Hufflepuff Quidditch captain from the middle 19th Century.

Harry nabbed the errant ball. "I thought you were a Quaffle, not a Snitch," he said as the rubber ball tried to squirm out of his fingers. He looked up at Jeanne and grinned. "I can tell what gender you are, though."

Jeanne giggled and wiggled her fingers.

"I thought you were on holiday," Harry said.

"I am," she said. "I just forgot my gloves." She waved them in Harry's direction before hopping on her Silver Arrow and jetting out of the picture.

Once she was gone, the Quaffle stopped trying to escape.

"Sorry, old boy," Harry said. "It's time to go home."

"That's exactly what I was thinking," a rusty voice said.

Harry almost jumped out of his skin as he whirled around. He managed to keep his grip on the miniature Quaffle, though. His Seeker skills weren't that rusty yet.

"Ah, I apologize for startling you, Harold," Professor Binns said.

Harry sighed, but didn't waste his breath correcting him.

"I have something here for you in honor of your birthday," Binns said, reaching into an inner pocket.

"I understand that you talked the examiners into granting me an Honorary OWL," Harry said. "That's present enough."

Binns smiled faintly. (He did everything faintly, Harry decided, being transparent and all.)

"Actually, this is a card from your late grandfather, Tiberius Potter," Binns said. He held up a translucent envelope.

Ghost mail was difficult. It was so cold that it made a living person's hands hurt. And the warmth of a living hand tended to make the "paper" evaporate.

Harry had just in time to read the birthday greeting before the card melted away.

"Thank you, Professor," he said.

"You're welcome, Herodotus."

"And thank you again for getting me the honorary OWL," Harry said.

The ghostly Binns looked to be in his fifties at the moment. He nodded gravely. "It was only right. Besides, that Professor Snake person was trying to get you ejected. I never liked him. He never paid attention in class."

Well, that was one thing he and Snape had in common, but Harry decided that this would be a bad time to mention it.

"I understand that you found the elusive Chamber of Secrets?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied as if this were the first time Binns asked that question.

"I was wondering if I might have a look at the Chamber."

"Erm, I don't know," Harry said. "You would have to ask Dumbledore."

"Ah," Binns sighed. "I was actually hoping for something more immediate and less… formal. Having permission robs the experience of some of its mystique." He shrugged. "But if I must, I must."

He drifted away. Harry hoped that he'd given up on the idea, but he had a sinking feeling that he had not.

Binns did not give up on the idea. In fact, he managed to talk Dumbledore into it somehow.

Harry recognized a bad idea when he heard one.

He had acted on bad ideas before. Stealing the Weasley's car and flying to school in their second year leaped to mind. Accepting an invitation to duel with Malfoy in his first year.

Not to mention just about every decision he had made during his fourth year.

Having permission from Dumbledore didn't make him feel any better.

Dumbledore told Harry that it was ultimately Harry's decision. But there was something about Dumbledore's demeanor that prevented Harry from refusing. The headmaster seemed like he was losing his best friend.

Harry remembered that Dumbledore and Binns had gone to school together. He wondered what it would be like to have the ghost of an old friend around.

"I don't know why you're hesitating," Sirius said. "You've been down in the Chamber of Secrets before."

"That was a matter of life and death!" Remus objected.

"Well… this is a matter of Death and… Afterlife," Sirius said. "Think of the poor man. How'd you like to spend the rest of eternity in a senile fog? Doesn't the man deserve a chance to move on?"

Tonks snorted. "You just want to get into the Chamber of Secrets," she said.

"Well, that, too," Sirius admitted. He looked at Remus and Tonks slyly. "And you two don't?"

Harry watched Binns. The history professor was slowly morphing through one phase after another. First he was the absent-minded, indifferent teacher he knew. Then he was the young Dusty Binns.

Dusty gradually aged from eager youth to optimistic teens, to determined prime of life and then, gradually, to disillusioned middle age.

And then back to cantankerous senility.

He wondered what his old age would be like, assuming he lived to have one. He wondered what Binns's parents would have thought, if they could see what had become of their son.

He wondered what his parents would think if he left Binns like this when there was something he could do.

"Okay," he said. "I'll do it."

"Yes!" Sirius cheered.

Tonks grinned and started polishing her wand.

"You will live to regret this," Remus said darkly.

"I _already_ regret this," Harry responded.

Dumbledore looked grave. "Thank you, Harry," he said. Then he led the way to opening to the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry hesitated at the door to Moaning Myrtle's loo.

"She's not here," Binns informed him.

"She's gone off on her annual pilgrimage to Olive Hornsby's grave," Dumbledore said.

"I thought she was banished to Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore nodded and stroked his silvery beard. "She was, but only until Olive died. Now Myrtle goes to contemplate her bete noir's mortality every year."

They entered the bathroom slowly and arranged themselves around the sink with the snake mark.

"Open," Harry hissed.

The sink descended, leaving a gaping hole behind.

Dumbledore looked at the phoenix on his shoulder. "So, Fawkes, do you think that you can carry all of us down to the Chamber?"

Fawkes rolled his eyes.

"Very well, then," Dumbledore said. "A simple 'arresto momento,' then."

The descent into the Chamber was slower and smoother than when he and Ron had jumped in after Lockhart. Harry should have felt better. There was no Ginny in danger. No basilisk on the rampage.

He was still scared.


	24. Crystal Knocks

Chapter 24 Crystal Knocks

By Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, and no profit is being made.

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Tonks enthusiasm began to fade as soon as they got to the bottom of the slide. The ground was still littered with bones and the way was still blocked by the cave-in that Ron's wonky old wand had caused.

She looked around, eyes growing larger and larger as she tried to suck in any trace of light.

Even Dumbledore hesitated as he took in the forbidding climate.

"Come on, then," Dusty Binns said impatiently. The now youthful ghost was the only one in high spirits. "I've been waiting for this since before time began."

"Yes, of course, Dustine," Dumbledore said. He cleared the rubble from their path with a flick of his wand.

Fawkes darted ahead, lighting a path. The others followed, treading carefully through the greenish gloom that was only lessened slightly by the light from their wands, the Phoenix and Binns.

They stopped at the wall with the emerald eyed serpents. The malevolence in the emerald eyes gave pause to even Dumbledore.

"Wicked!" gasped Dusty in delight.

"Could we have a little less enthusiasm from the dearly departed?" hissed Tonks.

"Please, let's keep things at a professional level," Sirius said.

Remus was too overawed to make a snide comment at this unusual display of gravity from his friend.

"Harry?" Dumbledore said. "I won't insist that you go through with this."

"That's… I'll do it," Harry said. He swallowed hard, but ordered the doors to open.

Tonks pulled closer to Remus as the wall began to open.

"The more I see of this place, the more impressed I am by your courage, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You truly did prove yourself a Gryffindor that day.

Harry couldn't think of a reply. Much to his relief, Dumbledore continued on without waiting for one.

Sirius clasped Harry's shoulder. "Prongs would have been as proud of you as I am," he said.

"And I," Remus added. The werewolf looked like he wanted to put his arm around Tonks' shoulders, but he made no such move.

The chamber was exactly the way Harry remembered it. Pillars with carved serpents disappeared into the gloom that concealed the ceiling.

"This place looks gruesome," Tonks said.

"It is," Harry said grimly.

They squelched and crunched across the main chamber, towards the statue of Salazar Slytherin with Fawkes flying ahead and Binns floating behind.

"The Chamber of Secrets, at last," Binns said reverently. "Now I can finish my book and go on to the next world. My work here is finished."

"Ew," Tonks said. "Are we walking on bones?" She grimaced and directed her gaze upward. "No, don't answer that."

Sirius answered anyway. "Actually, it looks like glass," he observed.

Everyone, even Tonks, stared down in astonishment.

"Where did all this come from?" Remus wondered.

"I suspect that most of it came from when I took my OWLs," Harry said. "A lot of glass was broken. When I asked later, Dobby said he didn't know who had cleaned it up."

Dumbledore looked angry. "Stupid of me to have overlooked all the breakage," he muttered. "I fear I may be losing my edge."

Sirius shot him a glance. "I confess that I was more amused than alarmed at the breakage. I t didn't even occur to me that one of the examiners could be a fake."

"More proof of senility on my part, considering what happened to Moody," Dumbledore said.

"The elves wouldn't have put the glass in the Chamber," Remus said. "So who put it here and what did they hope to accomplish?" He crouched and reached for a large piece.

The glass moved away from his hand.

The glass behind them began to rattle.

They froze.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that was the wind?" Tonks said.

They whipped around, wands at the ready.

The glass was gathering together, like a reversed film of a vase shattering. Only this was no vase, it was long and cylindrical… No…

"Why don't I like the looks of this?" Sirius asked.

It was serpentine.

A long, serpentine form with four talon tipped legs and a jaw filled with razor sharp fangs. Emerald green eyes glittered in the gloom.

"A Chinese Fireball would explain your distaste," Remus said.

"Really?" Sirius said, as he tried to remember a good glass smashing curse.

"Get Harry out of here!" Dumbledore ordered as Sirius shouted. "Harry! Run!"

Fawkes darted from the ceiling, snatched Harry up in his talons and fled towards the exit.

The Glass Fireball twisted its head and snapped at them as they shot past. This allowed the adults to start throwing hexes.

The Glass Fireball doubled back on its own length in order to pursue Fawkes and Harry. Its agility confounding attempts to hex its eyes.

Sirius transfigured into Padfoot and lunged. He managed to sink his teeth into the Glass Fireball's right rear leg and hold on.

The splintery glass jabbed his mouth and sliced his tongue, but Sirius was not about to release his hold for such trivial pains when his godson's life was at stake.

The others ran back to the exit, Remus in the lead. However as soon as the Glass Fireball was clear of the sinks, it looked back over its shoulder and hissed.

The opening to the Chamber of Secrets slammed shut with ominous finality.

"This just can't be good," Tonks said. She looked at Dumbledore. "I don't suppose you have a spare key?"

"No," Dumbledore said grimly. "We'd better try to find an alternate route out." He looked around. "Dusty? If you would be so kind as to carry a message?"

But Binns was long gone.

"He always did have the worst timing," sighed Dumbledore.


	25. Flight of the Phoenix

Chapter 25 Flight of the Phoenix

By Jelsemium

Who does not own the characters, make a profit from writing about the characters, or intend any copyright infringement

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Fawkes shot out of Moaning Myrtle's loo like a quarrel from a crossbow.

The Glass Fireball was close behind as the Grim clinging to its right rear leg did not slow it at all.

A glass pane appeared in front of him, causing the phoenix to back wing frantically to slow his forward momentum. Then he had to fold his wings next to his body and drop like a stone.

The Glass Fireball surged forward and snapped at Harry.

Harry kicked it in the snout and managed to deflect the attack.

Fawkes did a loop de loop and shot over the Glass Fireball's head.

The Glass Fireball twisted, spraying glass scales like shrapnel.

Fawkes darted down corridors and dashed from room to room in search of an open window. However, all the windows slammed shut in his face.

Glass arrows shot from the window of the Transfiguration classroom, causing Fawkes to back wing into the corridor and almost into the jaws of the Glass Fireball.

Harry shot off a quick _Diffindo_ spell. This caused several fangs to shatter, but the Fireball's tongue snaked out and snatched Harry's wand out of his hand.

Fawkes barreled down the corridors, in and out of secret doors and passages, and wound up in the Great Hall where he was forced to dodge through a hail of crystal spikes from the enchanted ceiling.

Every twist of the Glass Fireball movements slammed Padfoot against the wall. The Animagus managed to keep his grip until the Fireball made a hairpin turn on a staircase and swung Padfoot over the railing.

The combination of Padfoot's weight and velocity tore the glass fireball's rear leg off. Grim and leg plummeted two stories. The glass leg shattered and so did one of Padfoot's front legs.

Growling, Padfoot tried its best to give chase. However, running on three legs was a lot easier for the Fireball than it was for the Grim.

Fawkes jetted up toward the chandeliers and then plummeted past the fireball's nose, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws. Harry's Quidditch training allowed him keep his last meal in his stomach. He just hoped it wasn't literally his LAST meal.

The Glass Fireball turned on its own length again. As it swished around, the staircase that had tried to dump Harry on his head swiveled suddenly and trapped the remaining back leg against the wall.

That only caused a small delay in the pursuit as the Glass Fireball tucked its front legs under its body and let its weight pull its trapped leg off.

Any hope that losing another leg would slow the Glass Fireball was quickly dashed. It was almost able to keep up with the Phoenix by pulling with its front legs and slithering with its tail.

And it seemed to have an uncanny knowledge of the castle's short cuts.

The Fireball appeared from a suit of Slytherin armor directly in front of the fugitives. Fawkes went straight up, trying for what looked like an open skylight.

The Glass Fireball clawed its way up the wall. It passed the friendly Gryffindor armor, which took a swipe at it with its axe.

This knocked the fireball into a wall, which opened and revealed a secret passage.

The fireball darted into the secret passage. The armor charged, but bounced off the wall as the secret passage closed.

Above Fawkes and Harry, the skylight suddenly swirled together and twisted towards them like a glass tornado.

Fawkes spiraled out of reach and darted down a side passage that Harry had not seen.

"I think we should go back to Myrtle's bathroom," Harry said. "I'm almost certain that I hear that thing close the door behind us."

Before Fawkes could react to the suggestion, a large vase in front of them bulged and the Glass Fireball lunged out of it.

Fawkes dropped like a stone in an effort to avoid it.

Harry changed from boy form to cat form to make it easier for Fawkes to carry him.

Fawkes braked abruptly and darted into a side corridor.

The Glass Fireball almost overshot the corridor. It skidded to a halt, almost ripping its damaged leg of. When it got back to the side corridor, it saw that Fawkes was on the verge of escaping.

So it ripped off its damaged front leg and threw it.

Fawkes didn't have a chance to dodge. The glass limb caught him squarely and pinned him to the wall.

Involuntarily, the phoenix flared in anger and managed to melt the glass, firmly gluing him to the wall.

Fawkes released Harry before he scorched the boy wizard.

The Fireball made a snatch at him, but cat-Harry twisted and evaded capture. Then the Abyssinian was streaking away, with the Fireball hard on his heels.

There was only one thing that Harry could think of that might have a chance of stopping the glass dragon.

Norbert.

Assuming that Harry could get to him.

Assuming that Norbert didn't eat Harry.

Cats were not built for long distant running. Harry's lungs were burning and his vision was blurring when he skidded around the corner into the corridor where he had last seen Norbert.

The corridor was empty.

Behind him he could hear the slither of glass scales against stone.

Harry looked around for someplace a cat could hide, when shadow loomed over him.

There was a roar of "Get down!"

Cat-Harry flattened against the ground as a large shadow passed over him

Harry flinched as the Glass Fireball rounded the corner and charged headfirst into a barrel the size of its head.

Both glass dragon and wooden barrel were smashed into smithereens at the impact. Black, stinky tar poured out sullenly, engulfing the shards of glass. Harry sprinted forward and was scooped up by a hand the size of the recently smashed barrel.

"Yeh aw'right, Harry?" Hagrid asked worriedly.

Harry took a few deep breaths and nodded. Then he switched back into his human form. "Yeah, I think so," he said. "Just let me catch my breath."

"Where is ever'body?" Hagrid asked. He pointed his pink umbrella at the pile of glass and tar and shot off a flare. The tar and glass melted together into a goopy pile.

"Filch ain't gunna be happy," Hagrid said.

"It'll be easier to clean this up than blood, won't it?" Harry asked as Hagrid stepped over the mess and round the corridor.

"Actually, I think the blood would be easier to clean up," Hagrid said. He set Harry down as soon as they were clear of the mess. "What's goin' on?" He asked. "Where's Dumbledore?"

"They're still in the Chamber of Secrets," Harry said. "We'd better get them out of there." He hesitated. "And Fawkes is stuck to the wall somewhere."

"We'll get it all sorted out," Hagrid promised.

"Where's Norbert?" Harry asked. "And why did you have a barrel of tar?"

"Yeh saw him, did yeh?" Hagrid seemed pleased that Harry had recognized Norbert. "I was usin' it to patch up Norbert's leg. I had 'im up here to keep him quiet so I could treat 'im proper. Me cabin is too small."

"Oh," Harry said blankly. A lot of Hagrid's explanations caused this reaction in him. He should learn not to ask.

"I've got yer birthday present back in me cabin, by the way," Hagrid said. "Sorry it's late."

Harry smiled. "Funny, here I was thinking you were right on time."

There was an ominous squelch and rattle.

Before either wizard could react, the tar and glass conglomerate had wrapped itself around Hagrid's legs.

"Hey!" Hagrid tried to point his pink umbrella at the goop, but a tarry tendril yanked it out of his hand.

Within seconds, the goop had managed to pin Hagrid's arms to his sides and was making its way up his beard to his face.

"Harry! Get outta here!" Hagrid ordered.

Instead of obeying, Harry tried to _Scourgify_ the goop, to no avail. He desperately tried to think of a hex that would destroy the goop without hurting his friend.

Preferably before it could suffocate Hagrid.

Looking around desperately for something that would help or inspire, Harry spotted a shattered glass talon. He snatched it up and thrust it between Hagrid's lips before the goop covered the gamekeeper's face.

For a second, the only sound was sloshing goop and Hagrid's stentorian breathing through the hastily improvised snorkel.

"Very clever, boy."

Harry whirled around, wishing he had his wand. "Dr. Cressida Opal," he said. When he had been sick last year, he thought that Dr. Opal was his friend.

It turned out that she had murdered his grandfather. She also tried to kill him with a cursed glass chess set. Seeing her here after being attacked by a glass dragon wasn't exactly a surprise.

"In the flesh," she smirked. "You know, I never really thought you deserved all the attention you've received. On the other hand, I can't deny that you've earned that "Boy Who Lived" appellation. You are bloody hard to kill."

"Thanks," Harry said, watching her with narrowed eyes.

Opal fired off an entanglement charm at Harry.

Harry dived for Hagrid's pink umbrella and managed to yank it from the tar.

"Do you think you can disarm me with that toy?" Opal asked. "Expelliarmus!"

"Expelliarmus!" Harry cried.

Sparks flew as their spells cancelled each other out.

Harry tossed the Bat-Bogey hex her way and dove to avoid her return blast.

Blinded by her own bogies, Cressida shrieked something Harry couldn't make out.

Harry's glasses shattered. He flinched back and tossed them away.

"Expelliarmus!" Opal shrieked. Harry flew in one direction; Hagrid's umbrella flew in another. He hit the wall and slid down into a sitting position, gasping for air.

By then, Opal had figured out how to negate the Bat-Bogey curse. She scourified her face and glared at Harry.

Harry quickly switched into cat form, only to have Cressida negate the Animagus spell.

"Your time is up," she said.

Groping around for a weapon, Harry's hand landed on one of Norbert's half eaten chickens. He flung it, not expecting much, but he had to try.

It worked better than he would have believed.

The bit of chicken bone and feather hit Cressida's cheek, causing her to flinch back. Then she shrieked a useless swear word, regrouped and shrieked, "Incarcerous!"

Harry rolled forward, grabbed a scale from the Glass Fireball and held it up, reflecting the curse back on Cressida.

Moments later, she was wrapped up as tidily as a Christmas present.

Harry staggered over to try to help Hagrid.

Sirius staggered into the corridor, Lily's wand at the ready. "Harry!"

"Sirius," Harry gasped. He pointed at the mound of glass and tar. "Hagrid."

"Oh," Sirius studied the situation.

For a moment, Harry was afraid that Sirius would make a joke. However, all his Godfather did was wave the wand and transfigure the tar and glass into feather pillows.

"Yeh aw'right, Harry?" were the first words out of Hagrid's mouth.

"Been better," Harry said.

"You up to opening the Chamber again?" Sirius asked.

"Yes," Harry said. He looked at Cressida Opal and shuddered. "Somehow the Chamber doesn't seem as frightening as it did twenty minutes ago."


	26. Christmas in August

Chapter 26 Christmas in August

By Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, I'm not trying to make a profit and I mean no disrespect towards J. K. Rowling.

Author's Note: This story is actually finished! Hooray! Thank you for your patience!

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After all the shouting was over and the injuries tended to, Madam Pomfrey had decided that she'd had enough of Harry's company.

"You're obviously fit to leave the Hospital Wing," she huffed. "Why don't you spend your last night in the castle in Gryffindor Tower?"

"Excellent suggestion, Poppy," Dumbledore said.

Madam Pomfrey gave him a look that was frosty enough to have shattered a glass dragon.

Dumbledore had the grace to look abashed. "I shall arrange things at once," he said.

So, Harry spent the night in what would be the Sixth Year's room. Remus, Tonks and Sirius decided to camp out in the Common Room.

"Not that we're expecting trouble, but this is Harry Potter," Sirius explained.

Harry threw a pillow at him.

Later that evening, the Remus and Sirius were sitting in their favorite squishy chairs in front of the fire while Tonks prowled around the room, admiring the décor.

"I always imagined the Gryffindor Common Room to be more … martial," Tonks observed. "This seems quite civilized."

"Thank you Madam Ravenclaw," Sirius said lazily. He was idly waving Lily's first wand in circles and causing colored smoke rings to float through the open portrait hole. He would have been happier with the Fat Lady on guard, or even Sir Cadogan, but there wasn't any painting available.

"The Fat Lady would have a fit," Remus said, indicating the bubbles. He was browsing through his favorite book of poetry – Lovers and Seekers – by Persephone Kore.

"Most likely," Sirius said. "Of course, if she knew I was in here, she'd have another fit. She never did like me."

"Actually, she liked you fine until you ripped her up trying to get into the Tower to murder Harry," Remus said mildly.

"Why were you trying to murder Harry?" Tonks asked.

Sirius rolled his eyes at her and did a creditable imitation of Padfoot's growl.

Tonks made a face at him. In fact, she imitated Sirius' own face.

Sirius changed into Padfoot.

Tonks made her face match Padfoot's.

Harry laughed from the staircase to the boys' dorms.

Padfoot switched back to Sirius. "What are you doing out of bed, Harry?" he demanded.

"I'm hungry," Harry said.

"You're always hungry," Sirius said with a frown.

"You must be color blind," Harry replied, running his hand through his obviously not Weasley red hair. "I'm not Ron."

"Would Harry Potter like some food?" Dobby's voice came unexpected from the open doorway.

Dobby yanked on his ears as the humans in the room yelped and jumped. "Dobby is sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Remus said politely. Before any of the others could contradict him, he changed the subject. "What would you like to eat, Harry?"

"Um, breakfast," Harry said. "Pancakes, sausage, juice…"

"Anything for Harry Potter and his friends," Dobby said. He snapped his fingers and vanished.

"Just like the old days," Sirius sighed. "Reduced to being 'just a friend' of a Potter. Reminds me of when all the girls were making eyes at your father. They would graciously allow me to tag along… sometimes."

"Obviously they had good taste," Harry said. "Except for the sometimes."

Tonks and Remus laughed.

Sirius grimaced at them.

Before he could come up with a rejoinder, however, Dobby was back with a breakfast fit for a Founder.

"Wow, thanks, Dobby," Harry said.

"Oh, my something smells good," Dumbledore's voice came from the doorway. Fawkes flew in carrying a bottle of Phoenix Fizzy. Dumbledore was carrying a bowl of assorted sweets.

"I see that I'm not the only one who was having trouble sleeping," Dumbledore said with a bright smile.

There were murmured greetings as they gathered around the food. After his hunger pangs had been somewhat abated, Harry turned to Dumbledore.

"What happened to Dr. Opal?" he asked.

"She's been sent to the new wizarding prison," Dumbledore said. "The Ministry is not so keen to use Azkaban any more, but this one will suffice. I doubt that we will have to worry about her for a while."

"Every little bit helps," Remus said with a shrug. He turned his attention to the pumpkin pasties.

"How did Opal get into Hogwarts?" Tonks asked.

Dumbledore sighed. "It was a case of me outsmarting myself," he admitted. "I moved up the date of Harry's OWLs, hoping to confound any attempts to slip in a ringer. The trouble is, the real Transfiguration examiner had already left on holiday. So she did not get the change of date notice."

"So, how did Opal know that?" Sirius asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm not sure. She may have been watching for such an opportunity. It may have been blind luck. All I know for sure is that she managed to get a bit of hair from the examiner."

"Polyjuice potion strikes again," Tonks murmured.

"Exactly," Dumbledore said. "I do owe you a rather large apology for that, Harry."

"Does that mean I don't have to go to the Dursleys' this year?" Harry asked. He didn't really think he would get out of it, but it never hurts to ask.

Dumbledore sighed.

"That sounded like a 'no' to me," Sirius said with a frown.

Dumbledore leaned back and stroked his beard. "I am afraid that you will have to go stay with your aunt and her family for a while," he said apologetically.

"I see," Harry said neutrally. A week ago, he had been ready to go back to Privet Drive. Now he was not so happy at the thought.

"But I doubt that the Weasleys will allow you to remain in durance vile for very long," Dumbledore said placatingly.

"They're the best," Sirius said absently. "I wish I could repay them somehow."

"I should give Mrs. Weasley one of my Mum's cards," Harry said. He tried to remember if he had sent a card with Ginny and Ron.

"Cards?" Remus asked.

"What cards?" Sirius added.

Harry blinked. "Oh, I almost forgot," he said.

"Almost?" Sirius smirked.

Harry looked at him sternly.

"You look so much like your mother when you do that," Remus said in admiration.

Harry sighed. "All right," he said. "I forgot to mention that I found a stack of Christmas cards in my mother's trunk."

"Is this the trunk of Harry Potter's sainted mother?" Dobby asked, appearing with Lily's trunk.

"Yes, it is," Harry said with a grin. He opened the trunk and pulled out the cards. "I gave Madam Pomfrey her card. Well, Ginny gave her the card."

"That was very thoughtful," Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded. "Ginny's very nice," he said.

He found the cards for the Marauders and Dumbledore and handed them out.

The three wizards murmured their thanks. The three of them studied their cards and put them aside. Harry guessed that they wanted some privacy to read what would be his mother's last words to them.

Harry handed a stack of cards to Dumbledore. "We're fairly certain that we have these addressed to the correct people," he said. "But we weren't sure how to deliver them. Especially the one to Frank and Alice L."

"Alice and Frank Longbottom," Dumbledore confirmed. "I'll be sure that Neville gets this."

"Thank you," Harry said. He pulled out two more bundles of cards. "We divided them into categories," he said.

"I sense Hermione's influence here," Remus said.

"Actually, it was Ron's idea," Harry replied with a small smirk.

Remus smirked a little, too. "As I said, I sense Hermione's influence."

This elicited a chuckle from the others.

Harry sobered up quickly, though. "Some of the people…" he trailed off, not knowing how to phrase the next part.

"Are no longer with us?" Remus asked.

Harry nodded. "And some are people that we don't," he hesitated again. "Well, that we don't like."

"Is there a card for Peter in there?" Sirius asked.

"Yes," Harry said. "It's in this stack," he said. He handed the stack to Remus. "We couldn't work out who some of the cards were addressed to," he continued. He held up that stack with the card to Russ S. on top.

He almost got friction burns because Sirius snatched the cards out of his hands so fast.

His Godfather made as if to toss the card to Russ S. into the fire.

"Sirius!" Remus warned.

Sirius hesitated. Then he pulled out the card before he tossed the envelope into the fire.

Lily frowned at him from the picture. Baby Harry was more interested in trying to grab his mother's earrings than in the fate of the envelope that had been their home for so long.

"Your Mum never understood how much Snape hated her for marrying your Dad," Sirius said. He handed the card to Tonks.

Tonks studied the card curiously. "Your mother was very pretty," she observed.

"Thank you," Harry said.

"May I keep this?" she asked.

"Erm, ah, sure," Harry said, hoping he wasn't blushing.

The older wizards didn't say anything, but Sirius smirked a little.

Firelight sparkled off Dumbledore's spectacles as the Headmaster watched the envelope turn to ash. "I expect that Professor Snape would not have wanted a picture of you, no matter what your age," he said in a tired voice.

"Probably not," Remus said. He studied the envelope with "Peter P." written on it for several moments as if debating whether he should throw that envelope into the fire.

For a while, the only sounds were Remus and Sirius shuffled through the cards, identifying the ones that Madam Pomfrey had not been able to.

"Odd," Remus said after a while.

"What?" Sirius said. He raised his head and shook his long hair out of his eyes.

"There isn't a card for Hagrid," Remus said. "Did you already give it to him?"

Harry blinked. "Wait, there's one for him but it didn't fit into any of the stacks," he said. He dug into the trunk again and pulled out the oversized card marked "R. Hagrid."

"There are several cards in here that aren't addressed to anybody," Harry said. "Oh, and there's an empty envelope addressed to the Headmaster."

"Oh, can I have that?" Tonks asked. She held up her card to indicate why she wanted an empty envelope.

"Sure," Harry said. He passed the card over to her.

Tonks started to slip her card into the envelope, and then she frowned. "I thought you said this was empty?"

"Erm, well, I didn't look," Harry admitted.

Tonks passed the envelope to Dumbledore. "There's something in there," she said.

Curious, Dumbledore pulled out a small slip of paper. Fawkes hopped on to his shoulder to try to read it. Dumbledore gave him a stern look, but the phoenix was unfazed.

Dumbledore turned his attention back to the note and his eyes grew wide.

The others, not used to seeing such an obvious reaction from Dumbledore, sat up straight.

"What?" Harry demanded.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Dear Sir, James would be furious if he knew I was writing this, but I would feel easier in my mind if you, at least, knew of our change in plans."

Sirius paled.

"The boys were convinced by your last letter that using Sirius as our secret keeper would be too obvious, so we have decided to use Peter instead."

"Oh. My. God," Harry said. "That's been sitting at the foot of my bed for over a year now! I could have lost it. I almost threw it away…" He felt nauseated.

"Stop, Harry," Remus interrupted. "You couldn't have known this was in your mother's trunk."

"I could have looked…" Harry trailed off.

"I don't think it would have been wise," Dumbledore said. "You had enough on your mind without this as well."

"So, Sirius has been vindicated, right?" Harry said. "He doesn't have to hide any more? I don't have to go back to the Dursleys, right?"

"It's not that easy, my boy," Dumbledore said.

Harry thumped his forehead with his fist, reminding himself of Dobby. "It never is," he muttered gloomily.

"Somebody has to get this not into the correct hands at the Ministry," Dumbledore explained.

"And it can't be you because…?" Harry asked.

"I might be accused of forging his letter," Dumbledore said. "Fudge isn't exactly fond of me right now." The Headmaster studied the note thoughtfully.

"I suppose it's out of the question for me to tell the Minister that I found the trunk in my Aunt's attic," Harry said.

"Well, yes," Dumbledore said. "You aren't exactly favored by the current administration. We need somebody that we can trust, and whom the Ministry will also trust. Someone who would have a good reason to have this note and not realize it."

"My father, perhaps?" Sirius suggested. "He and Lily got along, in spite of the fact that Mother didn't like her." He thought that over. "Or maybe because she didn't like her."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I think your father would be the perfect person to find this misplaced letter."

"Won't people question him?" Tonks asked.

"Oh, no doubt," Dumbledore said. "But there isn't anyone we can pick who would be both logical and above suspicion. However, Rigel Black and I have never been on the best of terms, and my handing Sirius over to the Ministry did not endear me to him." he shot Sirius an apologetic glance.

"Yes, you do owe me for that," Sirius said with a faint grin.

"I expect to be paying that debt for a while," Dumbledore said. In spite of his elaborate sigh of resignation, the Headmaster didn't actually sound sorry.

"Maybe you should offer him a job," Remus said with a faint grin. "I understand that you are looking for a new history professor."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Please, history has to be the most boring subject in, well, history."

"But just think, none of your students would fall asleep in class," Tonks said with a smirk.

"They'd be too afraid of being eaten," Harry added with a straight face.

Sirius gave him a dirty look. "I don't have to take you in, you know," he said. "You could live with the Dursleys next summer."

Harry's shudder wasn't entirely feigned.

"You'll be all right with them for this summer, won't you?" Sirius asked worriedly.

Harry nodded. "Oh, yes," he said. "Especially as it won't be for very long." He looked at Dumbledore.

"I expect that the Weasleys will want to have Harry stay with them for part of the summer," Dumbledore agreed.

"You won't be too uncomfortable or bored?" Sirius asked anxiously.

Harry shook his head. "Aunt Petunia and I renovated the attic into a bedroom," he said. "It's actually quite nice." He looked at his mother's trunk. "And you never know what treasures you might find hidden in an attic."


End file.
